;  RE  AT 


ANK  HARRIS 


GREAT  DAYS 


A  NOVEL 


BY 


FRANK   HARRIS 


NEW  YORK 
MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 

MCMXIV 


Copyright  igi4  by 
Mitchell  Kennerley 


BOOKS  BY  FRANK  HARRIS 

GREAT  DAYS    A  Novel 
THE   BOMB    A  Novel 

MONTES  THE    MATADOR  AND   OTHER 

STORIES 
UNPATH'D  WATERS 

CONTEMPORARY  PORTRAITS 

THE  MAN   SHAKESPEARE 

THE  WOMEN  OF  SHAKESPEARE 

SHAKESPEARE  AND  HIS  LOVE    A  Play 


At  all  booksellers 


Printed  in  America 


BOOK  I 
CHAPTER  I 

A  BOY'S  memories:  hazy  in  childhood;  but 
clearing  later:  a  sturdy  boy  with  quick 
Celtic  face. 

Jack's  earliest  memory  was  wandering  along  a 
corridor  at  night  with  his  sister,  going  downstairs 
to  the  pantry  to  get  bread  and  jam.  His  sister 
squeaked  at  some  sound  and  ran  back:  he  went 
on  and  got  the  food.  As  he  turned  to  the  door  a 
shadow  fell  on  the  pantry  window:  it  numbed 
him  with  dread;  his  heart  beat  so  loudly  he  was 
sure  it  must  be  heard:  in  a  little  while  curiosity 
overcame  fear  and  he  peered  out  into  the  Inn- 
yard. 

It  was  very  dark;  but  he  saw  men  passing  to 
the  stable  with  casks  on  their  shoulders — eight  or 
ten,  one  after  the  other,  silent  shadow-shapes:  he 
was  half-relieved,  half  amazed,  his  heart  still 
a-ffutter.  As  soon  as  he  began  to  follow  his  sister 
up  the  dark  stairs  he  was  suddenly  seized  by  fear 

1 


ENCilSH 


Great  Days 

of  what  was  behind  him  and  fled,  too,  breath- 
less, dreading  he  knew  not  what.  .  .  . 

Later:  Jack  was  taken  out  on  Sunday  by  his 
father:  he  was  a  little  afraid  of  his  father  and 
uncomfortable  in  new  clothes,  his  face  sticky  with 
soap.  His  father  chided  him:  "Don't  make 
faces,  boy." 

The    servant    had   washed    his    face,    for    his 
mother  was  not  well:  she  hadn't  washed  the  soap 
off,  the  water  was  not  warm,  the  soap  had  got 
into  his  eyes,   and  left  his   skin  all  crinkly-stiff. 
Again  his  father  snapped:  "Don't  make  faces." 
They  were  in  a  chapel ;   the  pews  low  and  yel- 
low,   the   walls   bare   and  white.     The   ministsr 
preached  about  hell,  described  the  flames.     Jack 
was  uncomfortable,   afraid;    he   didn't  want  to 
burn  forever  all  over.     He  remembered  burning 
his  finger  once  and  it  smarted  dreadfully:   he  dis- 
liked the  chapel;  the  people  in  it  seemed  common, 
ugly. 

His  father  put  on  a  Htde  black  cap  he  some- 
times wore  in  the  house :  the  boy  felt  inclined  to 
laugh  at  it.  Then  he  saw  other  people  looking  at 
it  and  he  grew  hot  and  ashamed:  no  one  else 
wore  a  little  black  cap :  he  hated  it.  He  watched 
a  fly  crawl  over  it:  his  father  whispered  "Don't 
stare!" 

2 


Great  Days 

The  minister  prayed  with  his  eyes  shut.  The 
people  joined  in,  his  father  loudly: 

"Lord  save  us,  Lord  save  us." 

Jack  was  uncomfortable,  the  skin  of  his  face 
felt  glazed:  he  wished  he  were  out  in  the 
woods.   .   .  . 

Long  afterwards :  he  was  awakened  by  unusual 
noises:  doors  opening  and  shutting:  someone 
clumped  past  his  door  In  heavy  boots.  He  dressed 
hurriedly:  he  could  dress  himself  now.  He  went 
to  the  door,  opened  it  and  listened.  Suddenly 
GIbby,  his  cousin,  passed  all  dripping  in  yellow 
oil  skins;  he  asked  GIbby:  "What's  the  matter?" 
GIbby  replied  hurriedly:  "Ship  ashore  on  beach 
— your  father  sent  me  to  tell  Missis  to  light  fires 
and  warm  beds  for  the  shipwrecked  people." 

Jack  begged  GIbby  to  take  him  to  the  beach: 
he  wanted  to  see  the  wreck. 

GIbby  said:    "Night's  too  dirty"  :  Jack  begged. 

At  length  GIbby  replied:  "You  can  follow  me 
if  you  like." 

Jack  followed  GIbby  outside — the  gale  nearly 
pushed  him  down:   Gibby  led  him  by  the  hand. 

They  came  to  the  beach ;  knots  of  men  all  about 
and  two  great  flares  of  yellow  light  from  two  piles 
of  tarred  wood  set  on  the  strand. 

Suddenly  Jack  saw  his  father,  who  was  dlrect- 

3 


Great  Days 

ing  the  sailors  where  to  build  the  bonfires.  Rid- 
ing, Chips,  and  Widdison  were  busy  setting  fire  to 
the  piles  of  wood  which  the  others  had  made. 

Jack  left  Gibby  and  tried  to  get  to  his  father; 
he  was  blown  down  twice  on  the  slippery  shingle : 
he  persev^ered,  and  at  length  got  hold  of  his  fa- 
ther's coat. 

Thus  sheltered  Jack  caught  a  glimpse  of  the 
wreck  etched  out  in  black  lines  against  a  pale  rift 
of  sky:  the  foremast  was  snapped  off  half  way 
up  and  hanging  down  with  the  sail :  the  mainmast 
tall  and  bare :  the  mizzen  with  small  squarish  sail 
on  it:  a  vague  outline  of  people  grouped  about 
the  mast  on  the  sloping  deck. 

On  the  beach  near  by  amid  the  thickest  crowd 
Jack  recognized  Dr.  Crosby,  the  master  of  his 
school,  talking  to  a  stout  man  in  uniform:  they 
all  seemed  very  excited,  but  the  gale  prevented 
him  hearing  what  they  said.  In  a  lull  the  knot  of 
men  came  nearer:  the  rector,  Mr.  Carrol,  whom 
he  hardly  recognized  he  was  so  muffled  up,  cried 
to  the  man  In  uniform: 

"But  something  must  be  done,  Lieutenant : 
what's  to  be  done?    It's  awful " 

The  Lieutenant  shouted  back:  "Nothing  can 
be  done,  nothing;  no  boat  could  live  a  second  in 
such  breakers." 

4 


Great  Days 

Dr.  Crosby  bellowed  to  Jack's  father:  "What 
do  you  say,  Morgan:   can't  you  do  anything?'* 

His  father  answered  nothing:  suddenly  New- 
ton, whom  Jack  knew,  a  youth,  came  panting  up. 
His  father  bade  him  strip,  put  a  belt  about  his 
waist,  tied  a  thin  twine  to  the  belt:  then  took  him 
to  the  water's  edge  and  pointed  out  how  he  must 
go  higher  up  the  beach — two  hundred  yards 
higher,  and  wade  in  and  swim  out  as  rapidly  as 
possible. 

"The  tide  is  setting  across,"  his  father  shouted 
in  Newton's  ear:  "it'll  carry  you  aboard.  Don't 
be  afraid;  and  don't  stop  trying!  There's  no 
danger  for  you,  remember;  I  shall  feel  you  all 
the  time  by  the  string:  you'll  be  safe:  do  your 
best  and  don't  turn  back:  now,  my  lad,  show  what 
stuff's  in  you." 

Newton  disappeared  into  the  night  and  they 
waited.  A  little  later  the  wreck  was  lit  up  with 
a  great  flare;  they  had  kindled  a  fire  in  the  bow 
to  show  Newton  the  way.  Then  something  hap- 
pened; Newton  was  being  washed  shorewards; 
everyone  hurried  down  the  beach. 

His  father  called  the  men  to  make  a  chain. 
They  took  hands  and  waded  into  the  sea  as  far 
as  possible:  Dr.  Crosby  next  to  his  father,  who 
was  right  up  to  his  neck.     A  wave  swept  over 

5 


Great  Days 

them:  his  father  was  covered  and  Dr.  Crosby: 
then  the  heads  of  the  men  appeared  again — blots 
on  the  foam. 

The  boy  was  afraid;  left  alone  on  the  beach 
he  became  conscious  of  the  cold;  the  howling  force 
of  the  wind,  the  roar  of  the  incoming  waves  and 
the  hissing  and  sizzling  of  them  as  they  drew  back 
down  the  pebbly  strand. 

Suddenly  Jack  stared:  the  ship  was  quite  close: 
he  could  see  a  crowd  about  the  mainmast,  men 
hurrying  to  and  fro;  others  standing  on  the  bul- 
warks forward  with  ropes  in  their  hands.  Then 
clearly  a  white  figure  was  being  dragged  over  the 
bulwarks  right  against  the  flame:  shouts  and 
cheers  rose  from  the  crowd  on  the  beach.  His 
father  came  out  of  the  sea  shaking  the  water  from 
him:  the  next  moment  he  had  tied  a  line,  which 
Riding  brought  him,  to  the  little  string  In  his 
hand,  tied  it  very  carefully,  and  the  line  was  drawn 
into  the  water  and  disappeared  towards  the  ship. 

Suddenly  a  faint  cheering  was  heard  from  the 
wreck ;  It  brought  forth  a  great  shout  from  those 
on  shore.  The  crowd  thronged  about  his  father 
congratulating  him,  shaking  his  hands :  they  called 
him  "Captain"  and  cheered  him,  again  and  again. 
Dr.  Crosby  came  over  and  cried  to  him  in  his  big 
voice,  slapping  him  on  the  shoulder: 

6 


Great  Days 

"Well  done,  Captain;  well  done." 

Jack  glowed  with  pleasure.  The  Lieutenant  in 
his  uniform  shook  hands  with  his  father;  he  said: 

"Well  done,  skipper!  You  were  right  after 
all." 

Jack  did  not  like  the  word  "Skipper" :  he  did 
not  know  why.  He  was  all  hot  with  pride  of  his 
father:  he  slipped  his  hand  into  his  father's  wet 
hand.  His  father  turned  to  Gibby  with  sharp 
command : 

"As  soon  as  Newton  comes  ashore,  give  him 
hot  grog  in  the  kitchen  and  see  that  there  is  hot 
water  ready  and  hot  blankets." 

Gibby  answered:    "Ay,  ay,  Sir!"   .  .  . 

Jack  could  not  remember  how  he  got  home,  or 
even  how  many  were  saved;  but  he  could  always 
see  the  black  wreck  and  the  cowering  people  and 
the  sheets  of  spray,  and  always  in  spite  of  the 
howling  wind  and  the  roar  and  lash  of  the  waves 
he  could  hear  that  faint  cheer.  .  .  . 

A  little  later;  vague  alarm  in  the  Inn:  Gibby 
hurried  In  at  nightfall  and  talked  to  his  father 
about  the  Preventive  men:  the  Lieutenant  was 
coming  to  search.  His  father  sent  Gibby  to  the 
fishing  smacks  for  men — Riding  and  Chips,  Wid- 
dison  and  Newton — all  of  them :  they  hurried  up, 

7 


Great  Days 

a  dozen  or  more:  Jack  on  the  watch  saw  them 
take  kegs  from  stable  and  barn  and  carry  them 
on  their  shoulders  down  to  the  harbour  the  back 
way.  He  wondered  whether  they  were  the  men 
he  saw  through  the  pantry  window  years  before 
bringing  in  the  kegs.  For  hours  they  worked 
hastily,  silently.  Then  his  father  told  Gibby  to 
sling  a  couple  of  kegs  on  the  brown  mare  and  take 
them  to  Lieutenant  Myring's  house  and  leave 
them  there.    Gibby  seemed  surprised. 

"You  fool,"  cried  his  father,  "if  he  refuses  and 
sends  them  back,  we  are  no  worse  off:  if  he  ac- 
cepts them,  there'll  be  no  more  searching." 

"But  he  can  find  nothing,"  said  Gibby. 

"Do  as  you  are  told,  booby!"  his  father 
growled. 

Hours  later  Jack,  hearing  men  talking,  crept 
downstairs  and  saw  in  the  kitchen  the  big  Lieu- 
tenant with  three  or  four  of  his  men.  The  officer 
seemed  half  apologetic. 

"We  had  to  search,  you  know,  Morgan.  One 
of  my  men  got  information.  Glad  to  find  there's 
no  foundation  for  the  report." 

But  he  looked  angry,  Jack  thought,  not  glad: 
his  father,  he  noticed  with  wonder,  was  much 
smaller  than  the  Lieutenant;  he  was  smiling  and 
offered  drinks  which  Nancy, the  barmaid, brought: 

8 


Great  Days 

the  Lieutenant  waved  them  off :  then  bowed  to 
Nancy  and  said  something,  smiUng:  his  father 
persisted  in  offering  drinks,  the  Lieutenant  paid 
no  attention  to  him.  Jack  hated  the  Lieutenant: 
couldn't  understand  why  his  father  was  so  nice 
to  him. 

The  last  picture  was  at  the  door;  the  Lieu- 
tenant, with  the  reins  in  his  hand,  talking  to 
Nancy.  He  suddenly  put  his  left  arm  round  her 
waist  and  stooped  to  kiss  her;  but  Nancy  ducked 
quickly  and  avoided  him.  She  tossed  her  hair 
back  and  said  something  saucily;  the  Lieutenant 
laughed  and,  swinging  himself  on  his  horse,  called 
out  of  the  dark: 

"Good  night,  Nancy:  you'll  soon  see  me  again: 
good  night!" 

"Good  night.  Sir!"  in  reply,  and  the  clatter  of 
horses'  hoofs  on  the  street.  .  .   . 

His  mother,  all  shaken  and  frightened,  was 
weeping  silently.  His  father  went  over  to  her, 
saying:    "Go  up  to  bed,  Mary,  go  to  bed,  dear." 

"Oh,  Tom,  the  dreadful  life" — was  all  she  an- 
swered. As  she  turned  to  the  stairs,  she  told  the 
boy  and  his  sister  to  come  with  her:  still  weeping 
she  put  them  to  bed. 

Jack  lay  awake  for  a  long  time  in  the  darkness; 
again  and  again  he  saw  the  Lieutenant  standing 

9 


Great  Days 

over  Nancy  at  the  door,  and  Nancy  looking  up  in 

his  face  with  saucy  eyes — smiling. 

****** 

A  Sunday  morning  later;  church  bells  ringing; 
Jack  had  the  usual  discomfort  of  good  clothes, 
collar  and  stiff  boots.  They  all  went  to  church 
and  sat  in  a  big,  high,  square,  brown  pew.  The 
windows  were  pretty:  the  boy  studied  the  faces 
and  figures  of  Saints  in  the  painted  glass.  He 
thought  the  music  lovely.  He  liked  church  better 
than  chapel.  Why  did  his  father  ever  go  to  that 
mean  chapel  with  the  common,  ugly  people? 
Church  was  jolly,  he  decided.  The  words  and 
rhythm  of  a  great  psalm  stuck  in  his  memory  like 
the  music  and  the  glow  of  the  pictured  faces — 

"Now  lettest  Thou  Thy  Servant  depart  in  peace 
according  to  Thy  word " 

He  was  charmed  and  softened,  though  he 
couldn't  say  why. 

When  they  got  up  to  sing,  his  sister  stood  on 
the  hassock  and  craned  up  to  see  Lady  Barron: 
he  pulled  her  down.  When  the  rector,  Mr,  Car- 
rol, began  to  preach,  the  boy  laughed;  the  thought 
struck  him  that  perhaps  his  chum,  Fred  Carrol, 
would  one  day  be  stuck  up  there  under  the  dark 
canopy  to  preach  and  pray.  His  father  glared 
at  him:   his  mother  put  her  hand  on  his.  .  .  . 

10 


Great  Days 

The  church  was  warm;  Jack  grew  restless;  with 
his  toe  he  found  a  little  hole  in  the  floor  under 
the  bench  and  he  rooted  at  it  to  make  it  bigger, 
wondering  whether  he'd  be  able  to  work  a  hole 
through.  The  wood  was  old  and  crumbly,  and  he 
soon  got  his  toe  under  the  board:  then  he  prised 
and  prised  till  something  gave :  he  went  on  root- 
ing and  prising  till  suddenly  a  long  splint  broke  off 
with  a  loud  crack.  He  looked  up  guiltily  and 
caught  his  father's  angry  frown:  he  stopped,  a 
little  frightened. 

Later  he  discovered  a  new  game.  He  noticed 
that  if  he  leant  for  some  time  against  the  back  of 
the  high  pew  something  stuck,  probably  some  rem- 
nant of  varnish.  He  leant  back  for  some  time 
Intent,  then  bent  forward  suddenly  with  glorious 
result — the  squeak  of  the  cloth  being  pulled  away 
from  the  sticky  place.  Again  his  mother's  hand 
was  laid  upon  his :  his  father  glared  at  him  and 
cleared  his  throat  loudly. 

When  they  came  out  of  the  church  they  met  Sir 
George  Barron  and  his  party.  Sir  George,  a 
florid,  portly  man,  elaborately  dressed,  carrying 
a  cane:  he  came  over  to  them  loftily  important; 
his  father  took  off  his  hat  and  bowed  low. 
Sir  George  waved  his  cane  and  said  patron- 
izingly: 

11 


Great  Days 

"So  our  friend  the  Lieutenant  found  nothing, 
eh,  Morgan?" 

"Nothing  to  find,  Sir  George,"  replied  his 
father,  smiling  obsequiously,  at  which  Sir  George 
laughed  loudly: 

"Well,  well;  I'm  glad  to  hear  it — for  your 
sake."     Turning  towards  his  carriage  he  added: 

"By  the  way,  send  me  up  a  dozen  kegs  of  your 
best,  Morgan:  will  you?  I'm  having  some 
friends  down  from  town,  Lord  Petre,  and — and 
some  others " 

His  father  bowed  and  promised. 

Jack  hated  it  all.  What  did  it  mean?  Since 
the  night  on  the  beach  his  father  had  been  a  hero 
to  him.  Why  did  people  treat  him  so?  How  did 
they  dare?  He  remembered  that  the  Lieutenant 
called  him — "Skipper."  Why  did  Sir  George 
Barron  speak  like  a  superior? 

As  they  walked  home  he  did  not  listen  to  the 
talk.  He  was  wondering  why  all  the  boys  made 
up  to  young  Barron  at  school;  why  the  masters 
never  gave  him  a  punishment?  Why  young 
Crosby  was  always  about  with  him?  He  disliked 
Crosby,  who  was  the  head  of  the  class  and  could 
read  Latin.  He  wondered  why  sums  were  so 
much  easier  to  do  than  Latin.  What  did  Latin 
mean?     What  was  the  good  of  Latin  anyway? 

12 


Great  Days 

Did  people  ever  say  "mensa"  for  table?  What 
fools  they  were !  School  would  be  jolly  if  there 
were  no  lessons :  games  were  fun — lessons  beast- 
ly. ..  . 

At  length  came  what  he  later  called  the  Awak- 
ening. 

One  of  his  delights  still  was  going  downstairs 
at  night  to  get  food:  Jack  was  always  ready  to 
eat.  One  night  everything  was  quiet  in  the  house : 
his  mother  was  ill.  He  stayed  in  her  room  for 
hours:  he  loved  his  mother;  she  was  always  gen- 
tle, kind.  Could  she  be  angry,  he  often  won- 
dered, like  his  father?    She  never  was  even  cross. 

His  father  came  in,  talked  a  little,  kissed  his 
wife  and  went  away:  Emily,  Jack's  sister,  came  In 
and  talked  for  a  while:  she  wanted  to  know 
whether  she  should  sit  up  with  mother.  The 
mother  said  "No,"  she  had  better  go  to  bed;  she'd 
send  for  Nancy  to  sit  up  if  she  wanted  anyone, 
but  she'd  be  all  right  by  herself.  Emily  kissed 
her  "good-night"  and  went  to  bed.  Jack  reflected 
vaguely  that  his  sister  slept  alone  now  and  he  had 
the  bedroom  to  himself.  A  little  later  his  mother 
saw  him  yawning,  so  kissed  him  and  sent  him  to 
bed:  "It's  getting  late,"  she  said,  "I'll  try  to 
sleep." 

13 


Great  Days 

As  he  crossed  the  corridor  to  go  by  the  back 
staircase  he  heard  a  vague  noise.  He  Hstened  but 
everything  was  quiet.  He  went  into  his  little  room 
and  put  off  his  slippers,  and  then  out  of  curiosity 
returned  again  to  the  stairs  and  crept  down  a 
flight:  he  heard  scuffling;  there  was  someone  in 
the  kitchen.  Was  it  Nancy,  the  barmaid?  Who 
was  it? 

Jack  crept  down  another  flight,  avoiding  the 
stairs  which  creaked:  then  bent  down  and  peeped 
into  the  great  kitchen. 

There  was  a  dull  fire  of  logs  on  the  hearth,  just 
enough  to  see  by  and  there! — two  figures  strug- 
gling— his  father  and  Nancy  the  barmaid.  In  a 
moment  the  boy  saw  that  his  father  had  his  arm 
round  Nancy's  waist  and  was  dragging  her  across 
the  room:  the  girl  resisting.  .  .  . 

As  they  passed  in  front  of  the  fire  his  father 
put  his  arm  round  her  neck  and  drew  her  head 
back  and  kissed  her  on  the  mouth.  The  girl 
seemed  to  yield  for  a  moment  (Jack  was  gasping 
with  excitement) ,  then,  bracing  both  hands  against 
the  man's  chest,  she  pushed  him  away.  .  .  . 

His  father  drew  her  to  him  again  and  kissed 
her:  she  did  not  seem  to  resent  the  kisses:  but 
as  soon  as  he  tried  to  drag  her  across  the  room 
she  resisted:  why? 

14 


Great  Days 

Suddenly  his  father  renewed  the  struggle ;  there 
was  something  fierce  in  his  embrace  which  ex- 
cited Jack's  anger;  he  realized  all  at  once  that  his 
father  was  trying  to  pull  her  to  the  big  settle  at 
the  side.  As  they  came  close  to  it  the  girl  wrig- 
gled down  out  of  his  father's  arms  and  almost 
got  free;  but  his  father  stooped  quickly,  picked 
her  up  and  laid  her  down  on  the  settle.  The  boy 
caught  a  glimpse  of  white  petticoat  and  the  gleam 
of  white,  round  limbs.  It  made  him  angry  with 
his  father;  he  did  not  know  why. 

His  father  pushed  the  girl  back;  she  struggled 
up;  he  pushed  her  back  again.  Suddenly  there 
was  an  exclamation.  His  father  moved  away. 
The  boy  saw  red  on  his  hand:  Nancy  had  bitten 
him.    The  girl  got  up  and  whispered  sulkily: 

"It's  your  own  fault.  ...  I  told  you  I 
wouldn't — with  her  up  there,  sick." 

His  father  looked  at  her  and  sucked  his 
wounded  hand. 

"Let  me  do  it  up,"  she  said. 

His  father  pushed  her  away:  "You  peevish 
bitch,"  he  said,  angrily,  In  a  low  voice. 

"I  don't  care,"  she  replied  defiantly,  putting 
up  her  white  arms  to  tidy  her  hair. 

For  the  first  time  the  boy  saw  that  her  arms 
were  white  and  round  and  pretty;  with  a  shock  of 

15 


Great  Days 

intense  surprise  he  realized  that  Nancy  was  very 
pretty. 

In  a  whirl  of  sensations  and  emotion;  hate  of 
his  father  and  wild  excitement,  Jack  stood  breath- 
less with  dry  mouth  and  burning  face.  His  father 
turned  towards  the  stairs.  The  boy  stole  away 
to  his  room.    His  bed  was  cold:  he  was  shivering. 

Again  and  again  he  recalled  the  scene;  tried  to 
see  more — Why  was  he  so  excited?  Why  did 
Nancy ?  Without  words  he  realized  thril- 
ling what  it  all  meant.  .  .  . 

His  childhood  was  passed  and  gone. 


16 


CHAPTER  II 

NEXT  morniiig,  still  vibrating  from  the  shock 
of  the  new  emotions,  Jack  went  to  say 
"good  morning"  to  his  mother;  to  his  surprise  he 
saw  her  as  he  had  never  seen  her  before;  her  pal- 
lor struck  him  and  her  weakness;  her  eyes  he 
noticed  were  large  and  dark,  her  hands  like  wax. 
Full  of  a  new  pity,  he  asked  her  how  she  was,  and 
tried  to  do  little  things  for  her:  when  he  was 
going  she  called  him  to  her  and  kissed  him :  "My 
boy's  getting  to  be  a  man,"  she  said. 

Downstairs  things  were  as  usual:  his  father 
spoke  to  him  in  the  old  quick  way:  looked  as  he 
had  always  looked  out  of  sharp  gray  eyes :  if  his 
left  hand  had  not  been  bound  up,  Jack  might  have 
thought  he  had  dreamed  the  scene  of  the  previous 
evening.  He  studied  Nancy  curiously:  "Yes,  she 
Is  pretty,"  he  decided;  her  eyes  deep  blue;  her 
skin  white,  her  hair,  too,  jolly  with  strands  of 
gold  in  the  chestnut  waves. 

Nancy  must  have  felt  the  new  scrutiny,  for  she 
exclaimed,  pertly:  "Well,  you'll  know  me  again, 
I  hope."    Jack  turned  away  a  little  confused;   he 

17 


Great  Days 

did  know  her  now,  he  felt,  as  he  had  not  known 
her  before :  he  saw  her  differently — and  in  detail 
so  to  speak. 

His  eyes  had  been  unsealed  for  certain  persons 
and  for  certain  things  as  well. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  he  was  out  walking 
with  his  chum  Carrol,  the  son  of  the  rector :  they 
had  climbed  the  village  street  to  the  downs  be- 
hind, and  suddenly  the  whole  scene  and  its  beauty 
became  visible  to  Jack;  he  saw  how  the  two  great 
arms  of  land  bosomed  the  bay;  how  the  little 
harbour  below,  with  its  fishing  smacks  and  boats, 
was  sheltered  by  the  pier,  and  how  the  beach 
away  to  the  right  was  dappled  by  patches  of 
black  shingle  on  the  yellow  sand;  but  the  marvel 
to  him  was  the  revelation  of  loveliness  in  the 
whole  scene:  it  was  a  picture,  he  said  to  himself, 
awestricken.  Even  the  great  Head  opposite  was 
superb,  the  green  slopes  of  it  flecked  here  and 
there,  with  dark  woods  up  to  the  bare  bluff  front, 
where  you  could  lie  on  your  face  and  look  down 
on  the  watery  plain  six  hundred  feet  below — it 
was  all  beautiful,  a  picture ! 

From  this  time  on  he  began  to  realize  every- 
thing more  clearly:  he  noticed  now  that  Carrol 
was  slight  and  rather  pale:  he  wondered  curiously 
what  he  himself  looked  like. 

18 


Great  Days 

"How  do  I  look,  Fred?"  he  asked  a  little  shyly. 

"All  right,"  replied  Carrol,  carelessly. 

Jack  felt  ashamed  to  press  him ;  but  as  soon  as 
he  got  to  his  room  again,  he  looked  at  himself  in 
the  glass  and  was  disappointed:  he  didn't  like  his 
face  at  all:  the  nose  was  too  prominent,  the  ears 
too  large,  the  eyes  commonplace  blue.  His  taste, 
formed  unconsciously  by  the  regular  features  and 
fine  colouring  of  Nancy,  found  fault  with  his 
ruder,  more  energetic  modelling:  he  didn't  notice 
the  quick  changes  of  expression,  the  vivacity  and 
bold  resolve  which  redeemed  the  irregularity  of 
his  features :  he  was  ugly,  he  said  to  himself  with 
a  sinking  almost  of  despair. 

Bit  by  bit  life  became  conscious  to  him:  its 
pains  and  pleasures  more  noticeable,  or,  at  any 
rate,  more  memorable.  He  disliked  being  re- 
proved by  Dr.  Crosby  for  not  knowing  his  Latin 
grammar:  he  began  to  try  to  learn  it  and  soon 
succeeded  and  came  to  the  head  of  the  class  with 
young  Crosby. 

The  delights  of  living  were  innumerable :  the 
long  afternoons  of  football  and  its  even  battles; 
ball  too  and  tig  and  the  school  rivalries  of  run- 
ning and  jumping;  to  say  nothing  of  the  holiday 
walks  with  Carrol  and  great  swims. 

He  could  never  forget  one  wild  March  day 

19 


Great  Days 

when  Carrol  took  him  out  on  the  Head  to  get 
a  raven's  nest.  Thanks  to  his  occasional  fishing 
trips  in  one  of  his  father's  smacks  he  was  easily 
the  best  climber  in  the  school.  He  was  delighted 
to  be  asked  to  climb  the  tree,  but  when  he  found 
that  it  sprang  from  the  edge  of  the  cliff  and 
hung  right  over  the  water,  and  was  swaying  about 
in  the  high  wind,  he  didn't  like  the  job. 

A  remark  of  Carrol's  decided  him  to  at- 
tempt it. 

"I  had  no  idea  it  was  blowing  so,"  Carrol  cried. 
"Up  here  it  almost  knocks  you  down.  You 
could  get  the  nest  if  It  were  calm,  couldn't  you?" 

"The  top  of  the  tree's  jolly  thin,"  Jack  replied, 
"it  doesn't  look  as  if  it  would  bear." 

"Confound  it,"  cried  the  younger  boy,  "that 
brute  Crosby  will  crow  so  and  I  hate  him;  he 
said  no  one  could  climb  that  tree,  and  I've  watched 
the  nest  for  weeks  and  I'm  sure  there  are  eggs 


In  It." 


The  mention  of  Crosby's  rivalry  decided  Jack 
at  once;  in  ten  minutes  he  had  climbed  the  tree 
and  returned  with  one  egg  in  his  mouth  and  an- 
other in  his  pocket. 

"Aren't  they  beauties?"  cried  Carrol,  holding 
the  grey-green  treasures  blotched  with  black,  in 
his  hand.    "May  I  have  one?"  he  added  wistfully. 

20 


Great  Days 

"Both,"  exclaimed  his  companion  magnani- 
mously, "you  found  'em.  I  only  got  'em  because 
you  wanted  them  and  Crosby  said  I  couldn't. 
What  a  brute  he  is,"  he  added,  "I'm  sure  we'll 
have  a  fight  yet." 

"Father  says  we'll  be  fighting  with  the  French 
soon,"  said  Carrol. 

"The  French  can't  fight,"  Jack  declared  with 
authority,  "Gibby  says  Englishmen  are  stronger 
because  they  eat  beef  and  not  frogs  and  snails. 
Fancy  eating  a  slimy  snail.  Ugh!  Some  day  I'll 
be  captain  and  have  my  own  ship.  You  must 
come  as  lieutenant." 

"My  father  won't  let  me,"  replied  the  other 
lugubriously.  "I'll  have  to  stick  at  home;  father 
wants  me  to  study  to  be  a  parson,  though  I'd  hate 
to  spout  and  pray  and  look  solemn." 

In  suc^  talk  the  two  youngsters  mr.de  their  way 
down  the  hill,  meaning  to  take  the  long  road 
home.  A  mile  or  so  inland  they  came  to  the  wood 
which  bordered  Sir  George  Barron's  place,  The 
Court,  and  here  they  began  chasing  blackbirds  and 
thrushes  and  pelting  them  with  stones. 

The  sport  was  cruel,  but  that  had  never  struck 
the  youngsters;  it  gave  them  half  an  hour  or  so 
of  huge  excitement,  and  incidentally  limbs  of  steel 
and  lungs  of  leather.     This  afternoon  they   ar- 

21 


Great  Days 

rived  at  the  end  of  the  park  with  a  blackbird 
apiece  and  were  quite  content  when  suddenly  they 
were  hailed  by  a  couple  of  boys  who  greeted  them 
with  the  superiority  of  seniors.  One  was  young 
Cecil  Barron;  the  other  Will  Crosby,  the  son  of 
the  master  of  the  Grammar  School. 

Cecil  Barron  was  slight  and  good-looking  with 
delicate,  fair  complexion;  bold,  hawklike  nose  and 
violet  blue  eyes.  Crosby,  though  six  months 
younger  than  his  companion — only  just  fifteen,  in 
fact — was  much  bigger  than  any  of  the  others; 
a  loose-made  shambling  fellow,  with  big  hands 
and  feet  and  head.  Strange  to  say,  though  rather 
a  bully,  he  was  a  favourite  in  the  school;  but 
between  him  and  Jack  Morgan  there  had  always 
been  a  certain  tension  and  rivalry,  for,  if  Crosby 
was  the  better  scholar.  Jack  was  his  superior  in 
most  games,  perhaps  because  being  smaller  he  had 
come  nearer  his  full  growth  and  was  therefore 
better  knit  and  quicker. 

"What  have  you  got  there?"  cried  Crosby 
roughly  when  the  couple  came  within  hearing. 

"A  couple  of  blackbirds,"  replied  Jack. 
"Wouldn't  you  like  them?"  he  added  de- 
risively. 

"You  had  better  not  let  one  of  our  keepers 
catch  you  with  them,"  warned  Barron  enviously, 

22 


Great  Days 

"my  mother  thinks  it  cruel  to  hunt  birds  and  she 
has  given  orders  to  the  keepers  to  stop  it." 

As  Jack  admired  young  Barron,  the  reproof 
hurt  him  and  reduced  him  to  silence. 

Carrol,  however,  created  a  diversion  by  crying 
out: 

"Jack  chmbed  the  tree,  Cecil,  and  got  the 
raven's  eggs,"  he  added,  showing  them  in  his 
hand. 

"They're  not  raven's  eggs  after  all,"  said 
Crosby  maliciously;  "but  crow's." 

"You  only  say  that,"  retorted  Carrol,  "because 
you're  jealous.  You  said  no  one  could  climb  the 
tree  and  Jack  climbed  it,  though  it's  blowing  like 
anything  and  it  bent  over,  till  I  thought  it  was 
going  to  break  off." 

"They're  not  raven's  eggs,  I  tell  you,"  repeated 
Crosby,  taking  one  in  his  hand. 

"Oh  yes,  they  are,"  repHed  Jack  Morgan,  "and 
you  know  it." 

"You're  a  liar,"  replied  Crosby  insolently,  and 
in  his  excitement  he  pinched  the  egg  till  it  broke. 

"You  brute!"  cried  Jack,  thinking  he  had 
broken  the  egg  on  purpose.  "We'll  soon  see 
who's  the  liar,"  he  added,  beginning  to  take  off 
his  coat. 

"No,  no,"   cried  Barron,   coming  between  the 

23 


Great  Days 

two,  "don't  you  fellows  fight;  it's  only  cads  who 
fight  with  fists;  gentlemen  fight  with  swords." 

"Let  him  apologise  then,"  cried  Jack,  still  hot 
with  indignation. 

"Come  Will!"  said  Barron,  appealing  to  his 
companion,  "it's  no  good  rowing  for  nothing." 

"I  only  said  he  was  a  liar,"  replied  Crosby 
sulkily,  "because  he  said  I  knew  they  were  raven's 
eggs  and  I  don't  know  them;  how  could  he  tell 
whether  I  knew  them  or  not?" 

"There  you  are,"  said  Barron,  turning  to 
Morgan;  "that's  all  you  can  want." 

"No  it  isn't,  he  broke  the  egg  and  called  me  a 
liar,"  replied  Morgan;  "he  must  beg  pardon  or 
fight." 

"I'll  fight  fast  enough,"  retorted  Crosby,  pull- 
ing off  his  coat.     "I'll  give  you  socks,  potboy." 

"Are  you  all  deaf?"  cried  a  loud  voice  im- 
patiently, and  as  they  turned  at  the  sound  they 
found  themselves  face  to  face  with  a  gentleman 
mounted  on  a  big  brown  horse.  "What's  the 
matter?"  he  asked  imperiously. 

The  boys  looked  at  each  other.  Barron  was 
the  first  to  recover  himself. 

"They've  been  disputing,"  he  said,  "and  the 
lie  was  given.  But  no  gentleman  fights  with 
fists." 

24 


Great  Days 

"Who  are  they?"  asked  the  horseman. 

"That's  the  son  of  Dr.  Crosby,"  pointed  Bar- 
ron, "master  of  the  Grammar  School,  and  this  is 
Jack  Morgan." 

"The  Morgan  who  keeps  the  ordinary  in  the 
village?"  asked  the  stranger. 

"Yes,"  replied  Barron. 

"Well,  you  had  better  not  fight,"  said  the  horse- 
man, "but  show  me  the  road.  Does  this  path," 
he  went  on,  pointing  to  the  bridle-path  which 
crossed  the  wood,  "lead  to  the  village?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Jack,  "it  joins  the  main  road 
at  the  edge  of  the  wood." 

"Whom  have  we  had  the  pleasure  of  speaking 
to?"  asked  young  Barron  with  a  sort  of  negligent 
grace. 

The  rider  looked  down  at  the  lad  with  an 
amused  smile:     "And  who  are  you,  may  I  ask?" 

"Cecil  Barron,"  replied  the  youth  a  little 
proudly. 

"My  name's  Nugent — Captain  Nugent,  at  your 
service,"  said  the  horseman,  smiling. 

"And  now  I'll  bid  you  good  day,"  he  added; 
"but  don't  fight,  you  two;  there'll  be  fighting 
enough  for  everyone  soon  if  all  I  hear  is  true," 
and  with  that  he  put  his  horse  to  a  canter  and 
soon  disappeared  among  the  trees.     By  tacit  con- 

25 


Great  Da 


\s 


sent  the  boys  broke  again  Into  couples  and  went 
their  way;  the  two  elder  into  the  woods,  the  two 
younger  after  the  Captain  towards  the  village. 

Jack  Morgan  had  fallen  silent;  he  had  been 
touched  by  two  things:  the  courtesy  of  Barron 
and  the  instant  response  it  called  forth  from 
the  Captain  which  moved  him  to  a  vague  envy. 
The  other  was  Crosby's  epithet  "potboy"  and 
something  contemptuous  in  the  tone  of  the 
Captain  when  he  spoke  of  his  father  and  the 
"ordinary"  In  the  village.  He  felt  keenly  that 
for  some  reason  or  other  he  was  looked  upon  as 
of  lower  class  than  his  companions,  and  for  the 
first  time  he  realised  his  connection  with  the  pub- 
lic-house with  a  sense  of  shame. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about.  Jack?"  said 
Carrol  after  a  while  In  silence.  "Crosby  Isn't 
worth  It." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  him,"  Jack  replied;  "I 
was  wondering  if  'twas  cruel  to  chase  birds?" 

"Rot,"  cried  Carrol,  "Barron  only  said  that  to 
annoy  you;  he  thinks  you  too  cheeky." 

"I'd  rather  be  cheeky  than  conceited,"  replied 
Jack,  but  Barron's  dislike  annoyed  him  and  he 
added:    "He  can  keep  his  old  birds  for  me." 

In  a  short  time  the  two  boys  came  to  the  village 
and  separated  in  the  High  Street,  the  one  going 

26 


Great  Days 

to  the  rectory,  which  lay  up  to  the  left  under  the 
lee  of  the  church  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  away; 
the  other  to  the  village  Inn,  which  formed  a  sort 
of  centre  to  the  village.  The  Inn  was  opposite 
the  green  and  separated  from  it  only  by  a  great 
chestnut  tree.  Both  the  tree  and  the  Inn  had  a 
certain  notoriety.  The  tree  was  over  a  hundred 
years  old,  it  was  said,  and  was  still  a  fine  specimen 
of  its  kind;  round  its  base  was  a  circular  oak 
settle  much  frequented  on  fine  summer  evenings 
by  the  village  worthies. 

The  Inn  itself,  the  Robin  Hood,  dated  from 
1609  and  showed  not  only  in  name  but  in  its 
furnishing  a  good  deal  of  that  romantic  attach- 
ment to  the  past  which  is  part  of  our  English 
heritage.  It  was  a  large  two-story  building  with 
diamonded  broad  windows  on  either  side  the  broad 
low  door.  On  the  right  side  of  the  passage  was 
the  ordinary;  the  dining-room,  as  it  was  c?.lled 
later,  with  a  long,  narrow  refectory  table  in  it 
and  wheel  backed  chairs.  On  the  other  side  was 
the  parlor;  behind  the  parlor  the  bar;  and  behind 
the  ordinary  the  kitchen.  As  Jack  made  his  way 
along  the  passage  he  heard  his  father's  voice.  He 
passed  the  bar  into  the  great  kitchen  which  looked 
out  on  the  back. 

There  were  four  or  five  people  in  the  kitchen: 

27 


Great  Days 

his  father  and  mother;  Gibby  and  the  cook. 
There  was  besides  a  tramp,  a  weedy  looking  little 
man  of  perhaps  forty  with  sparse  grey  hair, 
watery  red-rimmed  eyes  and  reddish  nose. 

"Now  my  man,"  said  his  father  as  Jack  en- 
tered, "if  you  don't  get  out  of  this  you'll  be  up 
before  the  Justices.  You'd  have  penal  servitude 
if  I  had  my  way." 

The  tramp,  awed  by  the  contempt  of  the  host's 
words  and  manner,  slunk  out  of  the  door  into  the 
passage  and  disappeared. 

Turning  to  his  wife  Morgan  went  on: 

"Missis,  Missis,  you  musn't  encourage  these 
rascals;  why  give  good  meat  and  bread  and  beer 
to  such  a  lazy  worthless  sot." 

"Ah  Tom,"  exclaimed  his  wife,  turning  towards 
him,  "you  must  lave  me  alone  in  me  kitchen;  we 
shant  miss  the  bits  of  food."  One  couldn't  help 
noticing  the  soft  Irish  brogue  in  her  speech. 

"But  he  doesn't  deserve  it,"  said  the  father 
with  a  sharp  voice;  "he's  never  done  an  honest 
day's  work  in  his  life,  I'll  warrant." 

"Well,  and  what  of  that?"  said  his  wife,  turn- 
ing again  to  the  work:  .  .  .  "he  was  some 
poor  mother's  son,   wasn't  he?  and  hungry." 

In  his  new  found  consciousness  Jack  began  to 
wonder  vaguely  why  he  liked  his  mother's  reply; 

28 


Great  Days 

the  pitying  kindness  of  it  warmed  his  heart,  and 
yet  he  could  not  make  out  why  it  should,  for  his 
father  was  probably  right;  the  tramp  was  merely 
a  lazy,  worthless  loafer.  Still  his  mother's  loving 
kindness  and  generosity  appealed  to  him  intensely. 

Suddenly  out  of  the  dim  past  his  memory  called 
up  another  phrase  of  hers  which  he  had  for- 
gotten; and  indeed  at  the  time  had  not  even 
noticed.  Some  women  were  In  the  kitchen  talking 
of  a  young  baby;  Jack  was  not  Interested  In  the 
subject;  one  declared  the  child  was  too  weak 
to  live,  another  chimed  in  "a  good  thing  too; 
It's  main  ugly."  His  mother  turned  on  her  re- 
provingly : 

"No  baby's  ugly  that  has  all  Its  features." 

Why  the  word  had  stuck  In  his  memory  Jack 
could  not  imagine;  even  now  he  saw  nothing  of 
the  trembling,  deep  mother-instinct  which  Inspired 
It;  but  he  felt  vaguely  that  she  was  always  kind 
to  everyone. 

Why  did  he  like  what  his  mother  said  so  much? 
Jack  worried  his  brains  in  vain.  All  she  said  and 
did  touched  him,  made  him  love  her  though  he 
thought  her  "soft"  as  Gibby  often  said  she  was. 
While  dwelling  on  his  love  for  her  he  suddenly 
felt  disloyalty  to  his  father  in  his  over-great  affec- 
tion for  her;  but  his  father,  too,  was  splendid  he 
said  to  himself,  recalling  the  shipwreck.     .     .     . 

29 


CHAPTER  III 

JACK  soon  discovered  that  Captain  Nugent 
was  right;  all  the  talk  in  the  Inn  and  on 
the  quay  was  of  the  French  and  their  wild  revolu- 
tion which  had  been  brought  about,  some  said,  by 
the  bad  winters  and  terrible  poverty.  Jack  had 
heard  echoes  of  the  French  doings  for  some  time 
past;  but  most  of  the  news  went  in  at  one  ear 
and  out  at  the  other.  The  fall  of  the  Bastille, 
however,  shook  the  world,  and  within  a  week  the 
report  of  that  astonishing  thunder-clap  reached 
Hurstpoint,  for  the  village  was  only  a  few  miles 
from  Dover,  and  Dover  was  within  a  day's  sail 
of  the  French  coast  at  Calais. 

English  feeling  at  first  was  strongly  in  favour 
of  the  popular  revolt;  men  hoped  it  would  end  in 
the  establishment  of  what  they  called  "free  insti- 
tutions"; pictures  were  sold  of  "the  Goddess 
Liberty  seated  on  the  ruins  of  the  hated  Bastille 
restoring  the  crown  to  a  repentant  monarch." 
English  caricaturists  even  went  so  far  as  to  por- 
tray Marie  Antoinette  as  "a  drunken  Messalina." 

30 


Great  Days 

But  all  this  changed  quickly;  when  Parliament 
met  in  January,  1790,  it  was  to  hear  men  grow 
eloquent  in  praise  of  the  British  constitution  and 
in  condemnation  of  "the  anarchy  and  licentious- 
ness" which  they  declared  reigned  in  France. 
The  truth  was,  as  soon  as  the  English  governing 
classes  got  wind  of  what  they  were  pleased  to 
call  the  "insane  doctrine  of  equality"  promulgated 
by  the  Paris  mob  and  the  fish-wives,  they  veered 
round  and  began  to  heap  extravagant  abuse  on 
what  they  had  been  extravagantly  praising  for 
months  past.  It  was  natural  enough  for  the 
nobiUty  to  side  with  the  French  aristocracy  in 
defence  of  class  privileges  and  this  aristocratic 
feehng  filtered  down  through  all  the  strata  of  the 
English  commonalty  till  you  found  beggars  violent 
in  defence  of  the  privileges  which  had  brought 
them  to  destitution;  mere  race  antagonism  was 
stronger  than  any  other  feeling. 

All  this  while  from  his  fourteenth  to  his  six- 
teenth year  Jack  was  perpetually  plagueing  his 
father  to  let  him  go  to  sea.  For  reasons  he 
couldn't  divine  his  father  at  first  wouldn't  hear 
of  it,  but  the  boy's  impulse  was  too  strong  to  be 
overcome.  He  was  always  down  at  the  little  port 
talking  to  the  sailors,  forever  begging  to  go  out 
on  this  cruise  or  on  that.     The  wild  free  life 

31 


Great  Days 

and  the  desire  to  see  other  countries  worked  as 
a  ferment  In  him.  When  he  was  about  sixteen 
his  father  made  the  last  stand  and  came  to  a 
partial  concession. 

"A  sailor's  Hfe  is  a  dog's  life,"  he  said  to  the 
boy,  "and  you'll  have  money  when  I  die.  I'm  a 
good  bit  older  than  people  think  and  I  want  you 
in  the  Inn.  Hard  knocks  and  hard  tack  is  all 
you'll  get  at  sea." 

But  Jack's  mind  was  made  up.  War  had  begun 
to  be  talked  about  as  something  inevitable  and  the 
excitement  of  it  and  the  idea  of  victory  tempted 
him  irresistibly.  At  length  his  father  consented 
with  some  reluctance  to  let  him  go  on  board  the 
Dolphin  and  at  any  rate  try  a  sailor's  life  under 
favourable  conditions. 

Jack  knew  something  already  about  the  craft 
and  the  crew.  The  Dolphin  was  a  cutter  of  about 
forty  tons  burden  which  his  father  had  had  built 
according  to  his  own  design.  He  wanted  speed 
above  everything  and  his  Idea  was  that  a  ship 
to  be  fast  should  have  the  shape  of  a  fish,  the 
dolphin  for  preference  or  the  dog-fish;  a  fairly 
bluff  bow  that  is  with  a  long  tapering  quarter; 
"a  fine  run"  as  sailors  term  it. 

The  idea  must  have  had  something  in  it  for 
both  Morgan's  smacks  were  faster  and  more  sea- 

32 


Great  Days 

worthy  than  any  other  small  craft  about  the  coast. 

Jack's  first  fishing  cruises  taught  him  something 
about  the  men.  The  skipper  Bill  Gosport  was  a 
fine  sailor,  knowing  all  waters  and  weathers  and 
even  more  at  home  In  a  big  square-rigged  ship 
than  in  a  cutter.  Though  hardly  above  middle 
height  he  was  broad  and  strongly  made;  his  face 
rough  hewn,  dark  and  forceful;  his  manner  sullen. 
A  silent  man  who  only  talked  at  all  to  those  he 
trusted  or  Hked.  He  had  been  in  the  American 
navy,  but  why  he  had  left  it  no  one  could  divine, 
for  he  had  nothing  but  praise  for  it. 

Jack's  prime  favourite  on  board  the  Dolphin 
at  first  was  a  sailor  called  Weetman.  He  seemed 
to  Jack  of  a  better  class  than  the  rest;  and  Jack 
was  unconsciously  a  good  deal  of  a  snob;  he  had 
a  native  love  of  distinction  which  had  shown  itself 
already  in  his  admiration  of  young  Barron  and 
his  courtly  manners.  Weetman's  language  was 
above  his  station  and  though  Jack  felt  that  the 
fellow  wasn't  really  a  gentleman,  yet  he  was  al- 
ways amiable,  and  even  after  Jack  found  out 
that  he  had  periodical  fits  of  drunkenness  he 
couldn't  resist  the  charm  of  the  sailor's  chanties 
which  Weetman  trolled  out  in  a  rich  baritone 
voice.  Weetman,  too,  was  the  only  sailor  on 
board  except  Gosport  who  had  knocked  about  the 

33 


Great  Days 

world.  He  had  learned  negro  songs  and  dances 
in  the  West  Indies  and  his  considerable  mimetic 
power  revealed  a  new  world  to  the  boy's  eager 
imagining. 

Looking  back  after  some  years  over  his  first 
cruise  Jack  couldn't  help  noticing  that  the  men 
whom  he  liked  the  best  at  first  and  who  made 
the  deepest  impression  on  him  were  not  the  best 
or  even  the  most  important.  He  knew  Gibby, 
Weetman,  Gosport  and  Knight  almost  immedi- 
ately, but  Newton  and  Riding  he  only  came  to 
appreciate  after  long  experience.  Good  men  he 
found  like  most  other  good  things  take  some  time 
to  fathom. 

There  was  a  great  deal  in  his  father's  trade 
which  Jack  did  not  understand  even  at  sixteen. 
He  had  already  made  many  fishing  cruises  and 
had  noticed  that  when  they  came  across  a  shoal 
of  herrings  or  of  mackerel  the  catch  glutted  the 
village,  and  in  consequence  the  fish  were  almost 
worthless;  herrings  often  sold  for  twopence  a 
hundred  and  mackerel  even  cheaper.  What  then 
was  the  good  of  fishing?  And  why  were  the 
smacks  so  large  and  fast?  Smaller  and  less  ex- 
pensive craft  would  have  supplied  the  demand. 

Jack's  first  real  cruise  taught  him  the  answer 
to  all  such  questions.    His  father  went  with  him  on 

34 


Great  Days 

board  the  Dolphin  one  afternoon  while  Gibby 
followed  them  shouldering  Jack's  small  sea-chest. 
There  was  a  little  cabin  In  the  stern  of  the  Dolphin 
where  Gosport  and  Riding  messed,  and  this  tiny 
room  made  up  at  night  three  berths,  one  of  which 
was  set  aside  for  Jack.  The  rest  of  the  men  slept 
in  hammocks  In  the  fo'castle. 

On  the  way  down  to  the  quay  his  father  sur- 
prised Jack: 

"I'm  going  to  treat  you  from  now  on,"  he  said, 
"like  any  other  sallorman." 

The  boy  was  intensely  pleased. 

"I  shall  offer  you  drink  as  I  do  the  others, 
but  I  want  you  to  promise  me  you'll  take  no 
spirits  till  you're  over  twenty-one.  A  glass  of 
wine  won't  hurt  ye." 

Jack  promised  eagerly.  To  be  treated  like  a 
man  was  worth  any  sacrifice. 

When  they  got  on  board  his  father  showed  him 
where  to  stow  his  things  and  where  he  was  to 
sleep.  He  then  called  Gosport  and  Riding  down 
and  had  a  talk  with  the  two  over  glasses  of  rum 
grog.  In  the  aftertime  Jack  could  never  forget 
the  thrill  of  delight  he  felt  when  his  father  said 
to  him  carelessly: 

"Will  you  have  a  glass,  Jack?" 

"No,   thanks,"   repHed  Jack  valiantly.      "I'm 

85 


Great  Days 

not  going  to  drink — at  any  rate,"  he  added,  "not 
yet,"  for  he  had  caught  a  look  of  surprise  on 
Gosport's  face.  At  the  same  moment  Riding 
broke  into  an  uproarious  laugh  which  Jack 
couldn't  understand  at  the  moment. 

"It's  about  time  for  the  equinoctials,"  his  father 
remarked  a  little  later.  "In  a  week  or  so,  we 
should  have  dirty  weather  and  dark  nights." 

Gosport  nodded. 

This  was  all  that  appeared  at  the  time  signifi- 
cant to  Jack,  but  he  noticed  just  before  leaving 
the  cabin  that  his  father  gave  Riding  a  pocket- 
book. 

Jack  followed  him  to  the  quay  when  he  landed. 
In  silence  the  pair  walked  together  to  where  the 
land  rose  sharply. 

"Take  care  of  yourself,  my  boy,"  said  his 
father,  stopping  and  shaking  hands,  "and  don't 
be  rash.  Your  blood's  too  hot.  You'll  have  to 
learn  prudence.  Remember  what  I  say  and  keep 
a  quiet  tongue  in  your  head;  least  said  soonest 
mended." 

Suddenly  a  light  seemed  to  flood  Jack's  mind. 

"We're  going  smuggling?"  he  questioned. 

His  father  turned  on  him:  "You're  perhaps 
going  to  Bordeaux,"  he  said,  "and  not  Boulogne; 
see  everything  and  say  nothing." 

SQ 


Great  Days 

"Why  did  you  give  the  money  to  Riding?"  the 
boy  persisted. 

"I  trust  Riding  with  money,"  his  father  an- 
swered, "and  Gosport  with  the  smack.  They're 
a  good  pair.  Now  be  a  man  and  keep  your  own 
counsel.     Learn  all  you  can  and  be  cautious." 

As  the  boy  turned  away  and  walked  along  the 
quay  he  felt  mightily  uplifted.  His  father  had 
treated  him  like  a  man  and  already  he  enjoyed 
the  feeling  of  a  man's  power  and  a  man's  re- 
sponsibility. When  he  got  on  deck  the  crew  were 
at  the  windlass  heaving  up  the  anchor  and  Weet- 
man's  voice  rang  over  the  water  in  a  chanty  whose 
freedom  delighted  the  lad : 

Round  the  rock  and  into  dock;   it's  "Welcome  home,  my 

lover !" 
Out  of  dock  and  round  the  rock;    it's  "Go  to  hell,  you 

lubber !" 

The  anchor  was  soon  apeak  and  when  the  men 
came  amidships  to  hoist  the  mainsail  Jack 
couldn't  help  tailing  on  to  the  main  halyards  with 
them  while  Weetman  struck  up  the  second  chanty 
which  he  used  to  call  "Jack  Ashore." 

When  Jack  he  comes  ashore  all  the  gals  he  does  adore,. 

and  they  love  him  while  he  has  a  brown. 
But  with  crimps  and  drinks  and  gals  he's  soon  emptied 

like  his  pals,  and  all  his  happy  luck  is  down. 

37 


Great  Days 

But  Jack  he  carries  on,  till  his  credit  is  all  gone,  and 
the  landlady  meets  him  with  a  frown. 

Then  he  turns  again  to  sea;  and  sets  her  running  free; 
and  so  bids  farewell  to  the  girls  of  the  town. 

The  next  morning  when  Jack  awoke  and  came 
up  on  deck  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  sea 
and  sky,  not  a  sail,  not  a  glimpse  of  land. 

"Where  are  we?"  he  asked  big  Newton,  who 
was  steering,  "and  where  is  the  Mary?" 

"We  lost  her  in  the  night,"  said  Newton,  look- 
ing down  significantly  at  the  compass  in  front  of 
him.  Jack  saw  that  the  course  was  south-east 
and  by  south  and  took  the  hint. 

All  day  long  they  held  the  course  without  sight- 
ing a  vessel;  in  the  afternoon  one  incident  taught 
him  more  about  the  character  of  the  skipper  and 
the  men  than  months  of  ordinary  companionship. 
He  noticed  with  pleasure  when  he  came  up  on 
deck  that  Gosport  kept  all  the  ropes  coiled  down 
neatly,  man-o'-war  fashion,  and  the  decks  clean 
enough  to  eat  from.  The  wind  being  on  the 
quarter  and  holding  steadily  they  rigged  out  a 
square  sail  and  for  some  reason  or  other,  prob- 
ably carelessness,  Gibby  coiled  down  a  rope  very 
badly. 

"Here,"  cried  Gosport,  "is  that  ship-shape,  you 
lubber?" 

38 


Great  Days 

"Right  enough,"  replied  Gibby  impudently, 
evidently  presuming  on  his  position  as  a  relative 
of  the  owner  and  the  fact  that  the  owner's  son 
was  looking  on. 

"None  of  your  lip,"  cried  Gosport,  and  with 
the  word  struck  him  heavily  in  the  face.  Gibby 
attempted  to  strike  back,  but  the  next  moment 
was  hurled  down  by  a  furious  rush  of  the  skipper. 
Though  not  yet  come  to  his  full  size  Gibby  was 
so  big  and  powerful  that  Jack  had  thought  he 
could  easily  beat  any  of  the  men  on  board.  Now 
to  his  astonishment  Gibby  lay  on  the  deck  for 
some  seconds  without  moving  and  as  soon  as 
he  struggled  to  his  knees  he  was  felled  again  by 
another  heavy  blow  which  covered  him  with 
blood. 

The  brutal  cruelty  of  the  blow  roused  Jack's 
anger  and  disgust  and  he  sprang  to  Gosport's 
side  and  caught  hold  of  his  arm. 

"Don't  do  that,"  he  cried;  "you'll  kill  him." 

Gosport  threw  the  boy  off  and  for  a  moment 
looked  as  if  he  would  strike  him;  then  he  turned 
again  to  the  prostrate  Gibby. 

"Get  up,  ye  swab,"  he  cried,  kicking  him 
savagely  in  the  ribs,  "get  up  and  flemish  that  rope 
down  man-o'-war  style." 

Gibby  rose  slowly  and  to  Jack's  astonishment 

39 


Great  Days 

took  hold  of  the  rope  and  began  to  lay  it  in  a 
Flemish  coil.  As  soon  as  Gosport  saw  that  he 
was  obeyed  he  turned  and  went  aft  without  more 
ado.  Jack  couldn't  help  looking  with  pity  at 
Gibby's  white  bleeding  face,  but  he  quickly 
discovered  that  the  brutal  correction  had  no 
softening  effect  on  the  men;  indeed  Knight 
took  the  occasion  to  laugh  and  jeer  at 
Gibby. 

"Ah,  fat  boy,"  he  cried,  "so  ye  got  a  warming, 
did  ye?" 

"I'll  give  you  one,  if  you  don't  look  out," 
growled  Gibby. 

"Come  and  try,"  jeered  Knight,  "I'll  beat  ye 
so  that  yer  mother  won't  know  yer,  ye  d — d 
swme ! 

Jack  gazed  at  him  in  astonishment,  for  Knight 
was  thin  and  slight  in  comparison  with  Gibby. 
Evidently  he  had  been  mistaken  in  all  his  esti- 
mates. 

A  little  later  he  took  the  opportunity  of  asking 
Weetman  whether  he  thought  Knight  could  beat 
Gibby?  Weetman  was  not  inclined  to  talk  about 
them,  but  at  length  he  said: 

"Knight,  you  see,  is  half  a  gipsy  and  Gibby 
hasn't  come  to  his  strength  yet.  Knight  might 
beat  him  now,  though  in  five  or  six  years  more 

40 


Great  Days 

Gibby'U  probably  be  stronger  than  anyone  on 
board." 

"Isn't  Gosport  a  brute?"  Jack  questioned  fur- 
ther; but  Weetman  would  only  answer,  "He's  the 
skipper,"  and  drew  away. 

Jack  understood  that  his  father  was  right; 
there  was  a  good  deal  to  learn  even  on  board 
the  little  cutter  and  not  much  use  in  talking.  He 
began  to  look  at  all  the  men  with  a  more  curious 
and  more  discerning  eye. 

The  wind  held  fair  and  strong  on  the  quarter 
all  day,  and  the  next  morning  they  altered  their 
course  to  the  eastward,  and  two  hours  later  came 
in  sight  of  the  sand  dunes  and  piney  hillocks  of 
the  French  coast.  That  evening  they  picked  up 
the  lights  at  the  entrance  of  the  river  and  some 
hours  after  midnight  anchored  off  Bordeaux.  In 
half  an  hour  the  douaniers  came  on  board,  and  to 
his  surprise  Jack  found  that  Riding  could  talk 
French  fluently,  while  Gosport  and  Weetman 
seemed  to  understand  most  of  what  was  said. 
In  a  few  minutes  all  the  formalities  were  fulfilled 
and  everyone  turned  in.  The  boy  could  hardly 
sleep  for  excitement. 

Next  morning  they  warped  alongside  the  dock 
and  Jack  was  wonder-filled  with  the  new  sights 
and  sounds  and  odours;  the  quays  flooded  with 

41 


Great  Days 

sunshine ;  the  strange  lingo,  the  polite  people  who 
took  off  their  hats  to  everyone,  and  called  every- 
one *'citoyen,"  the  fisher-girls  who  laughed  co- 
quettishly  answering  his  eyes.  Gosport  gave  one 
watch  their  liberty  and  Riding  asked  Jack  if  he'd 
like  to  go  with  him  into  the  town.  Jack  assented 
and  accompanied  him  to  quiet  office  after  office, 
but  between  whiles  they  traversed  streets  and 
squares  gayer,  brighter  and  noisier  than  any  Jack 
had  ever  imagined,  and  Riding's  few  words  of  ex- 
planation made  most  things  clear.  They  dined  in 
a  little  restaurant.  Jack  had  never  had  so  taste- 
ful a  meal  or  one  so  well  served;  the  white  linen, 
the  thin  wine,  crusty  bread  and  black  coffee — 
everything  delighted  him. 

The  early  afternoon  was  spent  on  board  with 
Riding  invoicing  kegs  of  brandy  and  seeing  them 
stowed  away  by  Knight  and  Widdison  the  port 
watch.  But  after  four  the  work  was  all  done  and 
Riding  and  he  went  up  into  the  town  again  while 
Widdison,  who  looked  like  a  German  though  he 
came  from  Ipswich,  washed  and  made  ready  with 
Knight  for  the  night's  enjoyment.  Their  steps 
led  them  idly  towards  the  centre  of  the  town,  or 
perhaps  they  followed  an  unacknowledged  attrac- 
tion and  went  with  the  majority  of  people.  What- 
ever may  be  the   cause.   Riding  and  Jack  soon 

42 


Great  Days 

found  themselves  in  front  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville, 
or  Mansion  House.  It  was  a  sort  of  centre  for 
a  great  concourse  of  country  people  who  seemed 
for  the  most  part  to  be  workers  in  vineyards  and 
day  labourers:  most  of  them  were  equipped  or 
armed  with  the  instruments  of  their  calling,  quaint 
three-pronged  picks  or  pitchforks.  The  sight  of 
them  horrified  Jack:  their  poverty,  their  destitu- 
tion, was  almost  incredible;  no  one  had  decent 
clothes;  nearly  all — men  and  women  alike — were 
half  naked,  spectres  of  famine  with  skeleton 
limbs,  naked  feet  thrust  into  open  wooden  shoes, 
and  pinched,  pale,  hatchet  faces.  As  he  skirted 
the  crowd,  one  scarecrow  after  another  brought 
Jack  to  gasping.  A  couple  of  old  women  in  par- 
ticular drew  his  eye :  one  witch  with  wisps  of  grey 
hair  about  her  shoulders  was  dressed  in  a  man's 
cast-off  trowsers,  which  she  held  together  with  a 
square  of  bfown  carpet  that  half  hid  her  hang- 
ing brown  breasts  and  stringy  turkey-neck:  the 
other  had  nothing  on  but  a  coarse  straw  sack 
beneath  which  her  wizened  legs  stuck  out  like 
the  black  branches  of  a  tree  in  winter.  The  boy 
was  all  amazement  as  he  passed  by  quickly:  he 
felt  ashamed  even  to  see  such  misery. 

Of  a  sudden  the  side  door  of  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  opened  and  a  distribution  began  of  loaves  of 

43 


Great  Days 

bread.  The  people  pressed  towards  the  door 
hungrily,  but  Jack  could  not  help  remarking  a  cer- 
tain restraint,  a  certain  courtesy  even  which  aston- 
ished him.  He  noticed,  too,  that  as  a  rule  the 
men  began  at  once  to  eat  the  long  sticks  of  bread; 
while  the  women  carried  them  oft  intact,  evidently 
to  be  shared  at  home  with  those  whose  needs  were 
still  greater  than  their  own. 

"Why  are  they  hungry?"  he  asked  Riding. 

Riding  could  only  shrug  his  shoulders  and  ask 
one  of  the  passers-by  for  information. 

"The  people  think  it's  the  king  and  the  nobles 
who  prevent  them  from  getting  bread,"  said  the 
Frenchman,  with  the  indifference  of  the  well-to-do. 

"There  is  no  government,  no  order,"  he  went 
on;  "no  one  knows  from  day  to  day  what  will 
happen.  We  feed  the  starving,  but  things  get 
worse:  the  loaves  of  bread  don't  go  round,"  and 
indeed  while  they  were  looking  on,  the  door  of 
the  Mairie  was  shut  and  the  crowd  in  front 
swayed  to  and  fro,  cursing  and  gesticulating  in- 
dignantly: every  now  and  then  shouts  arose  with 
menace  in  the  tone:  "Bread,  bread!  ...  we 
must  have  bread!" 

Jack  couldn't  get  the  famine  spectres  of  women 
and  children  out  of  his  head :  at  length  the  puzzle 
of  it  and  the  wretchedness  of  the  people  became 

44 


Great  Days 

so  painful  to  him  that  he  ached  to  get  away  from 
it  all.  He  felt  in  tutelage,  too,  so  long  as  he 
walked  with  Riding,  and  he  wanted  to  be  free :  he 
burned  to  get  with  the  others  and  enjoy  life. 

'*Why  shouldn't  we  join  the  others?"  he  asked 
at  length. 

"You  don't  want  to  get  drunk,  do  you,"  re- 
plied Riding,  "and  spend  what  money  you've  got 
to  buy  a  sick  headache?" 

"No,"  said  Jack,  struck  by  the  reasonableness 
of  the  appeal  which,  however,  didn't  satisfy  his 
curiosity  or  his  desire  of  emancipation. 

A  little  later  they  met  another  crowd  of  fam- 
ished people  who  had  evidently  heard  of  the  dis- 
tribution of  bread  at  the  Mansion  House,  and 
were  hurrying  to  share  in  it.  These  late-comers 
tore  along  frantically  eager  and  excited,  and  Jack 
and  Riding  were  tossed  apart  by  them  and  sep- 
arated. Jack  made  no  particular  effort  to  dis- 
cover his  companion,  and  as  soon  as  he  found 
himself  alone  he  made  his  way  to  the  dock  and 
the  little  quay-side  cafe,  where  the  English  sailors 
were  taking  their  pleasure  after  their  own  fashion. 

Jack's  entrance  was  greeted  with  shouts  of  joy. 

"Have  a  drink.  Jack?"  cried  Gibby,  who  had  a 
fat  woman  on  his  knee  at  one  end  of  the  low  table 
which  stood  in  front  of  the  bar. 

45 


Great  Days 

"Come  here,  lad,"  cried  Weetman  with  a  hic- 
cup from  the  end  of  the  room  to  the  left,  "and 
I'll  baptize  you." 

Smiling  at  Gibby  and  his  frowsy  companion  as 
he  passed,  Jack  went  on  towards  Weetman.  He 
was  horrified  to  see  that  Weetman's  companion 
was  an  old  woman  who  leered  at  him  and  called 
him  "Mon  chou,"  though  she  was  older  than  his 
mother  and  had  only  two  black  teeth  in  her  mouth. 
He  was  so  taken  aback  that  he  stared  at  her,  and 
the  more  he  stared  the  more  she  leered,  and  the 
yellow-black  stumps  in  her  lower  jaw  waggled  as 
she  smiled. 

"Viens  done,  mon  petit  chou!"  and  she  made  a 
place  for  him. 

Weetman  must  have  noticed  Jack's  shrinking, 
for  he  cried  out  boisterously: 

"Come  on,  lad,  come  on  and  have  a  drink,"  and 
he  poured  out  a  glassful  of  red  wine  as  he  spoke 
and  pushed  it  across  the  wet  table  towards  Jack. 

"Nothing  like  an  old  fiddle  for  a  good  tune, 
lad,"  he  went  on;  "have  a  drink  and  I'll  give  ye 
a  song  and  dance — eh?" 

"A  dance  and  song,  old  man,"  cried  Widdison 
from  the  other  side  of  the  room;  and  at  once 
Weetman  rose  and  began  promenading  up  and 
down,  while  an  old  fiddler,  whom  Jack  had  not 

46 


Great  Days 

seen  huddled  up  against  the  corner  of  the  bar, 
began  to  play  a  sort  of  dance  tune.  Weetman's 
antics  interested  Jack  intensely.  Excited  as  he 
was  he  kept  time  to  the  music  with  heel  and  toe; 
indeed  the  drink,  with  its  bold  abandon,  lent  an  in- 
imitable touch  of  savagery  to  his  caricature  of  a 
negro-buck  showing  off. 

After  calling  on  them  all  to  join  in  the  chorus, 
he  began  to  sing;  even  the  landlord  behind  the 
bar  beat  time  on  his  zinc  counter  while  his  little 
beady  black  eyes  danced  with  amusement. 

My  ole  massa  promis'  me:     (Chorus)  Bowna  get  a  home 

bime  by. 
When  'e  die  'e  set  me  free;    (Chorus)  Bowna  get  a  home 

bime  by. 

When  this  had  been  sung  twice  the  refrain  came 
in  with  a  strange  lift  of  poetry,  which  added  the 
last  touch  of  spiritual  similitude  to  the  grotesque 
display. 

So  wayhav  you  water  lilies  to  the  land  ob  music  we 

shall  fly, 
I'm  a  gwine  to  join  the  gay  old  band,  I'se  gwine  to  get 

a  home  bime  by. 

Again  the  dance  went  on  with  renewed  vigour 
and  indecent  gestures,  while  Weetman  trolled  out 
the  next  verse : 

47 


Great  Days 

My  ole  Massa,  dead  and  gone;    Bowna  get  a  home  bime 

,by. 
He's  dead  and  gone,  an'  a  good  job,  too;    Bowna  get  a 
home  bime  by. 

Again  the  refrain : 

So  wayhay,  you  water  lilies  to  the  land  ob  music  we 

shall  fly, 
I'se  gwine  to  join  the  gay  old  band;    I'se  gwine  to  get  a 

home  bime  by. 

In  spite  of  himself  Jack  couldn't  help  laughing 
and  joining  in  the  chorus:  "So  wayhay,  you 
water  lilies,"  was  irresistible,  and  "Bowna  get  a 
home  bime  by,"  sang  itself  to  the  ear. 

"Another  drink,"  cried  Weetman,  stopping  in 
front  of  the  bar;  "drinks  all  round,  you  black-eyed 
lubber,"  he  cried  to  the  landlord,  adding,  "you 
must  drink,  too." 

The  landlord  got  up,  smiling,  and  the  whole 
throng  crowded  together  in  front  of  the  bar  and 
drank  a  fiery  Schnapps.  Jack  waved  the  glass  of 
wine  which  had  been  given  to  him  by  Weetman 
and  drank  a  sip  or  two  of  that.  As  they  thronged 
to  the  bar  he  noticed  that  Widdison's  girl  was 
black-eyed  and  rather  good-looking.  Then  sud- 
denly, as  she  turned  to  him,  he  saw  that  she  had  a 
dreadful  squint.    She  smiled  at  him  ingratiatingly, 

48 


Great  Days 

and  the  smile  had  something  uncanny  in  it,  for 
one  eye  seemed  to  be  looking  at  his  feet,  while 
the  other  was  gazing  straight  into  his. 

After  drinking,  the  crowd  all  lurched  back  to 
their  seats,  while  the  fiddler  struck  up  again  and 
Weetman  began  again  in  front  of  the  bar  his  fan- 
tastic imitation  of  the  negro-buck.  There  was 
something  grotesquely  comic  in  Weetman's  danc- 
ing— something  intensely  vivid  and  real  in  his 
caricature  of  the  negro  dandy,  strutting  and 
posturing,  and  the  quaint  words  of  the  song  bit 
the  picture  in  unforgettably:    Wayhay,  you  water- 

In  the  intervals  between  the  songs  and  dances 
and  the  drinks  all  round,  Jack's  eyes  were  drawn 
irresistibly  to  the  women.  Knight,  he  noticed, 
had  a  mere  girl,  a  slip  of  a  thing  that  didn't  ap- 
pear to  be  more  than  fifteen,  though  she  was 
probably  eighteen  or  nineteen.  She  was  so  under- 
sized and  thin  that  she  reminded  Jack  in  some 
vague  way  of  the  famine-spectres  of  the  Mansion 
House.  She  was  shy,  too;  for  he  looked  at  her 
again  and  again  before  he  caught  a  glimpse  of 
her  face;  and  then  was  astonished  by  the  life  and 
quick  withdrawal  of  dark  eyes. 

Weetman's  old  woman  was  evidently  the  leader 
of  the  gang :   she  continually  led  the  conversation 

49 


Great  Days 

in  broken  English  pieced  out  with  words  of 
French — a  jargon  which  seemed  intelligible  to 
everyone,  though  Jack  found  difficulty  in  under- 
standing it.  Widdison's  black-eyed  girl  with  the 
squint  kept  contradicting  her,  and  every  now  and 
then  the  two  had  a  hot  altercation  in  French, 
which  appeared  to  amuse  both  Weetman  and 
Widdison,  for  they  showed  their  approval  by  ex- 
citing their  companions  one  against  the  other,  as 
If  they  had  been  dogs:  meanwhile  Gibby's  frowsy 
fat  partner  drank  silently,  perseveringly,  as  in- 
deed did  GIbby  himself.  Jack  noticed  once  that 
when  she  turned  on  his  cousin's  knee  to  laugh  at 
the  old  woman  she  utilized  the  position  to  slide 
her  hand  into  GIbby's  pocket  and  take  his  purse, 
which  she  slipped  Into  her  dress  immediately  with 
the  adroitness  of  long  practice. 

Suddenly  the  old  woman  called  on  Berthe  to 
dance.  Berthe  was  Knight's  girl,  and  the  two  sat 
interlaced  in  the  dark  corner  mouth  on  mouth: 
she  couldn't  be  made  to  attend  for  some  time,  and 
when  the  call  did  reach  her  she  pretended  not  to 
hear,  and  went  on  kissing.  But  after  one  or  two 
calls  the  old  woman  scurried  across  and  dragged 
the  girl  in  spite  of  her  resistance  and  mutinous 
face  Into  the  middle  of  the  room,  while  screaming 
to  the  fiddler  for  a  new  tune.    As  the  music  struck 

50 


Great  Days 

into  a  wild  measure,  the  girl  began  to  dance  with 
all  sorts  of  strange  contortions  which  showed  off 
her  slim  body.    The  old  woman  cried  to  her: 

"Enleve  ta  robe,  enleve  ta  robe." 

The  girl  made  a  face  back  at  her;  but  when  she 
substituted  the  cry:  "Take  off  de  dress,"  the  sail- 
ors all  joined  in  "Off  with  the  dress;  off  with  the 
dress." 

The  girl  stopped  for  a  moment  and  pulled  off 
her  dress  and  then  took  the  floor  again,  dancing 
now  with  a  wild  grace  and  complete  abandon. 
Still  the  old  woman  wasn't  satisfied. 

"Up  wid  yer  jupe;  up  wid  yer  jupe?"  she  kept 
squealing,  and  the  sailors  howled,  laughing,  "Up 
with  it,  up  with  it." 

At  length,  casting  all  shame  to  the  winds,  the 
girl  seized  her  thin  orange  petticoat  in  both  hands, 
and,  pulling  it  up,  tied  it  between  her  legs  in  a 
knot,  so  that  her  round  brown  legs  were  exposed 
to  mid-thigh;  while  the  upper  part  of  her  breast 
and  arms  were  also  bare.  Again  she  began  to 
dance :  the  music  grew  faster  and  faster  and  she 
pirouetted  and  whirled  about  till  she  reminded 
Jack  of  a  russet  leaf  spun  about  in  a  high  wind. 
The  naked  round  brown  limbs  and  lithe  figure 
had  a  feverish  fascination  for  him.  He  stared 
with  all  his  eyes.     He  had  no  notion  that  the 

51 


Great  Days 

human  body  was  capable  of  such  wrlthings,  and 
there  was  something  lustful  and  exciting  in  the 
mad  delirium  of  the  posturing.  Suddenly  the  per- 
formance was  ended  by  the  girl  coming  crash 
to  the  floor  with  her  legs  outstretched  in  the 
^'splits." 

Jack  looked  at  the  girl  curiously  while  she  rose, 
undid  her  petticoat,  shook  herself  and  slid  Into 
her  dress  again  like  an  eel:  she  must  have  felt  his 
gaze  upon  her,  for  while  buttoning  her  dress  she 
lifted  her  eyes  to  his.  Her  gaze  pierced  Jack  to 
the  soul:  there  was  physical  contact  in  it,  and  as 
she  passed  she  suddenly  seized  his  head  In  her 
hands  and  kissed  him  on  the  mouth. 
"Ce  gosse  me  va'*  she  cried. 
**Belay  that,"  cried  Knight  from  his  dark  cor- 
ner.    "I  can  give  you  all  ye  want,  ye  bitch." 

Jack  sat  dazed,  with  burning  face  and  throb- 
bing heart,  unable  to  think  or  move,  so  intense 
was  the  sensation. 

At  a  word  from  the  old  woman  the  black-eyed 
girl  with  the  squint  began  to  sing  a  sentimental 
wailing  ditty  in  which  all  the  women  joined.  Sud- 
denly in  the  middle  Gibby's  fat  companion,  who 
had  been  singing  with  a  hoarse  contralto  that  told 
of  rum  and  night  air,  burst  into  tears,  which  en- 
raged the  old  woman,  who  came  over  to  her  and 

52 


Great  Days 

shook  and  slapped  her.  Suddenly  the  tears  ceased 
and  the  frowsy  one  retaliated,  scratching  the  old 
woman's  face  till  the  blood  came.  In  a  trice  the 
bottles  on  Gibby's  table  were  thrown  over,  and  he 
was  flooded  with  the  contents,  while  the  two  wom»- 
en  tore  out  each  other's  hair  by  handsful  and 
scratched  and  thumped  each  other  till  the  squint- 
ing girl  and  Weetman  separated  them. 

When  peace  was  at  length  re-estabhshed,  Weet- 
man was  called  upon  for  another  song  and,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that,  as  Gibby  said,  his  "back 
teeth  were  awash,"  he  got  up  again  and  began 
lurching  about  while  humming  a  negro  hymn  tune, 
which  the  fiddler,  however,  found  difficulty  in  fit- 
ting with  music.  But  the  sailors  wouldn't  have 
the  hymn:  Widdison  shouted  for  a  bawdy  song 
and  all  the  rest  joined  in;  and  at  length  Knight 
took  the  floor,  humming  a  tune  which  the  fiddler 
caught  at  once;  then,  in  a  clear  tenor,  he  began  a 
weird  gipsy  song: 


When  my  Dimber  Dell  I  courted 
She  had  youth  and  beauty,  too. 

Wanton  joys  my  heart  transported, 
And  her  wap  was  ever  new. 

But  conquering  time  doth  now  deceive  her. 
Which  her  pleasures  did  uphold; 

All  her  wapping  now  must  leave  her, 
(Repeat)  For,  alas!  my  dell's  grown  old. 

53 


Great  Days 

All  your  comfort,  Dimber  Dell, 

Since  you've  lost  your  flower  prime, 

Is  that  every  cull  can  tell 

You  have  not  misus'd  your  time. 

There's  not  a  prig  or  palliard  living 
Who's  not  been  your  slave  inroll'd. 

Then  cheer  your  heart,  and  cease  your  grieving; 
(Repeat)   You've  had  your  time,  tho'  now  grown  old. 

The  success  of  the  song  appeared  to  annoy 
Weetman,  who  soon  grew  angry  with  Knight  and 
roiled  across  the  room — "to  knock  eyes  into  him" ; 
as  he  said;  but  on  the  way  he  staggered  into  a 
seat  and  fell  to  snoring.  The  old  woman  and  the 
landlord  carried  him  bodily  into  his  corner  and 
left  him  to  sleep  in  his  armchair. 

Weetman's  drunken  rage  had  a  curious  effect 
on  Jack:  it  seemed  to  awaken  him  and  make  him 
conscious  of  something  squalid  and  bestial  in  the 
whole  scene.  As  long  as  the  men  were  excited 
and  gay  he  had  been  excited,  too,  and  worked  up; 
but  as  the  drunkenness  became  maudlin,  the  sordid 
brutality  of  the  orgy  revolted  him. 

He  watched  his  opportunity,  and  when  Gibby's 
back  was  turned,  managed  to  get  outside  into  the 
cool  starlit  night. 

He  didn't  want  to  go  on  board  the  ship  at  once : 
sleep  was  impossible  to  him.  His  head  was  hot 
with  the  fetid  atmosphere;   his  blood  aflame  with 

54 


Great  Days 

the  unaccustomed  wine  and  the  new  sensations. 
He  walked  about  the  docks  and  stood  long  in  the 
moonlight,  drawing  in  deep  draughts  of  the  cool, 
sweet,  sea-scented  air.  Towards  midnight  he 
went  below  and  turned  in.  But  the  girl's  clinging 
lips  followed  him  in  his  dreams. 


55 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  next  day  passed  for  Jack  in  a  whirl.  He 
noticed,  half  unconsciously,  that  bales  of 
silk  done  up  in  oil-cloth  were  taken  on  board  all 
the  morning:  he  knew,  too,  that  about  midday 
Gosport  and  Riding  made  up  their  minds  to  re- 
turn home  at  once :  the  hold  was  nearly  full,  the 
cargo  valuable  and  the  weather  looked  threaten- 
ing, the  clouds  banking  up  as  if  for  a  westerly 
gale.  Jack  took  no  part  in  the  discussion,  and 
kept  aloof  from  the  ordinary  work.  He  was 
strangely  silent.  Life  had  crowded  in  on  him  too 
quickly.  He  couldn't  assimilate  all  the  previous 
day  had  brought  him:  he  had  been  shaken  by 
extremes  of  pity  and  of  passion,  and  his  spiritual 
centre  of  gravity,  so  to  speak,  once  disturbed,  took 
some  time  to  settle  down  and  adjust  itself:  his 
deeper  nature  was  all  a-quiver. 

New  knowledge,  too,  had  flowed  in  on  his  mind 
like  a  tide.  He  felt  now  that  he  knew  Weetman 
and  Widdison,  Gibby  and  Knight  better  than  he 
had  known  anyone  in  the  world  the  previous  day. 

5§ 


Great  Days 

He  half  divined  Berthe,  too,  in  her  precocious 
sensuality,  and  the  old  woman  in  her  miserly 
greed  and  resolution;  he  knew  them  both  far  bet- 
ter than  he  knew  his  own  sister. 

He  went  about  half  dazed  by  the  new  glaring 
light  thrown  on  all  things.  He  saw,  without  look- 
ing, that  the  sailors  were  all  upset  by  the  previous 
night's  debauch ;  even  Weetman  could  not  raise  a 
chanty  as  they  hoisted  the  canvas  and  stood  out 
to  sea,  almost  in  the  teeth  of  a  sou'wester. 

When  they  had  gained  an  offing  and  set  the 
course  for  home  the  wind  was  fair,  and  as  it  rose 
to  a  gale  shortly  after  six  o'clock  the  little  craft 
skimmed  from  roller  to  roller  like  a  sea-bird. 

In  the  next  day  or  two  Jack's  mind  came  quietly 
to  its  new  moorings.  The  true  hierarchy  of  the 
little  crew  became  clear  to  him :  he  saw  that  the 
Gibbys,  Wlddlsons,  and  Knights,  and  even  the 
Weetmans  hardly  counted.  He  noticed,  too,  that 
Riding  talked  to  him  much  more  freely  than 
aforetime. 

On  the  fifth  day  the  gale  Increased  steadily  and 
the  waves  ran  high;  towards  nightfall  they  raised 
the  English  coast  and  about  ten  o'clock  were  op- 
posite Hurstpoint;  they  hove-to  about  seven  miles 
from  land  and  waited;  but  the  seas  broke  over 
the  little  craft  in  green  mounds,  and  they  had  to 

57 


Great  Days 

rig  out  a  sea-anchor  to  protect  her.  At  midnight 
precisely  they  showed  two  lights  one  above  the 
other — "Is  the  coast  clear?"  A  moment  later  a 
red  light  appeared  in  the  Inn — ^"Great  danger." 

What  was  to  be  done?  had  a  blue  light  ap- 
peared, which  signified  that  the  coastguard  were 
alert,  they  might  have  risked  something,  but 
the  red  light  meant  worse  than  risk.  What 
was  it? 

Gosport  and  Riding  met  in  the  little  cabin  to 
decide,  and  Riding  asked  Jack  to  come  with  them. 
Gosport  thought  that  the  gale  was  only  beginning 
and  advised  an  immediate  retreat  from  the  dan- 
gerous lee-shore.  Riding  proposed  to  slip  up  the 
coast  out  of  sight  of  any  eyes  that  might  be  watch- 
ing about  Hurstpoint.  Riding's  view  was  adopt- 
ed, and  when  the  morning  broke  they  were  forty 
or  forty-five  miles  away  to  the  nor'ard. 

Gosport  was  mistaken  in  one  thing;  the  gale 
had  blown  itself  out:  by  noon  it  had  died  away 
to  a  fitful  light  breeze  and  the  sea,  too,  was  going 
down.  By  midnight  they  were  again  off  Hurst- 
point, and  again  asked  the  same  question  with  the 
lantern  with  the  same  result.  What  was  the 
meaning  of  it? 

In  the  meantime  Jack  had  been  thinking  the 
matter  over:  the  red  light  shown  twice  could,  he 

58 


Great  Days 

thought,  only  be  explained  in  one  way:  for 
neither  Gosport  nor  Riding  had  ever  had  two  such 
warnings  in  succession :  a  revenue  cutter,  he 
guessed,  was  lying  in  wait  in  the  little  port.  It 
would,  therefore,  be  impossible  to  "run"  their 
cargo.  At  the  same  time  Jack  felt  that  if,  under 
these  conditions,  the  coastguard  men  could  be  out- 
witted they  might  believe  in  future  that  The  Dol- 
phin was  only  used  for  legitimate  trading.  Could 
this  be  done? 

He  thought  it  might  be  managed,  so  he  pro- 
posed to  load  the  boat  with  brandy  and  sink  the 
kegs  half  a  mile  outside  the  breakwater,  so  that 
they  could  be  fished  up  at  any  favorable  moment: 
they  would,  of  course,  be  buoyed.  If  he  were 
then  landed  on  the  other  side  of  the  Head 
he  could  tell  his  father  where  the  brandy  was, 
and  leave  it  to  him  to  regain  possession  of 
it  later.  But  could  anything  be  done  with  the 
silk? 

"Certainly,"  Riding  broke  in,  "it  can  be  left 
with  our  agents  at  Boulogne,  and  kept  there  till 
the  coast's  clear."  Jack's  plan  was  therefore 
adopted,  and  a  few  hours  later  he  found  himself 
walking  over  the  headland  towards  the  Robin 
Hood. 

His  father  let  him  into  the  Inn,  and  was  de- 

59 


Great  Days 

lighted  that  it  was  his  son  who  had  divined  the 
presence  of  the  revenue-cutter;  he  approved,  too, 
of  all  that  had  been  done. 

A  couple  of  days  later  the  Dolphin  appeared 
with  half  a  load  of  fish  purchased  from  a  French 
fishing  smack  at  Boulogne,  and  the  revenue  men, 
after  searching  in  vain  for  contraband,  took  their 
craft  to  sea  again. 

A  week  later  the  brandy  was  in  the  Robin 
Hood,  and  the  bales  of  silk  on  their  way  to  Lon- 
don. 

That  first  cruise,  and  especially  the  experiences 
at  Bordeaux,  had  worked  a  revolution  in  Jack: 
they  had  turned  him  from  a  boy  into  a  man. 
When  he  met  his  school-fellows  again  in  the  street 
or  on  the  quay  they  seemed  to  him  to  be  children ; 
even  the  gentlemen  who  came  to  the  Inn  no  longer 
excited  his  respect.  When  Sir  George  Barron 
talked  of  the  French  as  "wild  beasts,"  and  hoped 
that  Pitt  would  soon  declare  war  and  exterminate 
them  all,  he  didn't  know  whether  to  laugh  or 
merely  shrug  his  shoulders:  he  saw  again  the 
starving  figures  in  front  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville  and 
recalled  the  touching  courtesy  which  they  had 
shown  in  spite  of  their  hunger.  Even  when  Cap- 
tain Nugent  made  fun  of  tke  new  doctrines  of 
equality  and  fraternity,  he  no  longer  carried  Jack 

60 


Great  Days 

with  him:  the  youth  felt  that  there  was  a  good 
deal  to  be  said  on  the  other  side. 

From  this  time  dated  a  certain  estrangement 
between  Jack  and  his  former  associates  and  sur- 
roundings, which  became  perhaps  the  chief  fact 
in  his  mental  life,  for  this  alienation  induced  him 
to  think  for  himself  on  all  matters,  and  so  the 
distance  between  him  and  the  villagers  of  Hurst- 
point  increased  continually.  With  Riding's  help 
he  began  to  study  French,  and  now  learned  more 
in  an  hour  than  he  had  learned  at  school  in  a  year : 
in  a  short  time  he  understood  all  that  was  said 
to  him,  and  was  able  to  explain  himself  to  some 
extent  in  the  strange  tongue. 

He  was  encouraged,  too,  by  feeling  that  he  had 
grown  in  influence  with  his  father  and  the  sailors. 
Riding  had  evidently  given  him  the  credit  for  di- 
vining the  presence  of  the  revenue  cutter  and  the 
subsequent  plan  which  saved  the  cargo,  and  both 
his  father  and  the  others  now  treated  him  as 
someone  whose  opinion  was  worth  hearing.  Their 
respect  gave  him  self-confidence  and  trust  in  his 
own  judgment,  and  this  self-confidence  and  the 
habit  of  thinking  for  himself  were  both  fostered 
by  the  life  he  led. 

During  the  next  year  he  made  several  trips  to 
France;   now  to  Havre,  now  to  Bordeaux:   Bou- 

61 


Great  Days 

logne  was,  of  course,  nearer,  but  the  road  to  Bou- 
logne was  strewn  with  fast  English  revenue  cruis- 
ers, which  made  smuggling  Impossible.  Indeed, 
as  the  English  dislike  of  the  French  and  their 
doings  grew  and  Intensified,  smuggling  became 
more  and  more  difficult,  and  Jack's  first  cruise  in 
1793  was  destined  to  be  his  last  smuggling  cruise 
for  many  a  year. 

He  chose  mid-January  for  the  expedition,  and 
arrived  at  Bordeaux  In  wild  weather  on  the  23rd. 
To  his  astonishment  he  could  scarcely  recognize 
the  town.  It  was  all  In  an  uproar.  The  bells 
were  ringing  from  a  hundred  steeples,  the  tocsin 
sounding  at  every  corner;  the  country  people  had 
crowded  into  the  town  and  mingled  with  the 
townsfolk,  who  were  all  in  the  street.  News  had 
come  that  the  traitor  king  had  been  executed  in 
Paris — the  baker  monarch  who  had  refused  bread 
to  his  people.  That  and  the  great  victory  of 
Dumourlez  at  Jemappes  were  in  everyone's 
mouth.  Strange  to  say  the  victory  over  the  Aus- 
trians  seemed  to  the  Bordelals  more  important 
than  the  execution  of  the  king.  The  victory  at 
Valmy  had  been  only  a  partial  victory,  and  might 
have  been  the  result  of  chance,  but  Jemappes  was 
a  glory,  and  made  all  Frenchmen  realize  their 
essential   unity.      What    did    the    king    matter? 

62 


Great  Days 

What,  after  all,  did  any  traitor  matter?  Ca  ira; 
qa  ira. 

In  spite  of  foreign  invasion  Ca  ira;  the  very- 
paving  stones  of  the  street  gave  tongue  trium- 
phantly. 

The  poverty  and  distress,  however,  had  not 
diminished,  famine  still  stalked  the  land:  one  in 
every  three  persons  without  even  potatoes  enough 
to  eat:  unnumbered  thousands  of  children  perish- 
ing of  starvation  and  cold.  The  loss  and  fear 
had  turned  mothers  into  Msenads  and  furies,  as 
Jack  was  soon  to  see.  But  for  the  moment  fam- 
ine, destitution,  death  itself  were  forgotten,  swal- 
lowed up  in  wild  exultation.  Joy  shone  from 
every  face:  strangers  embraced,  kissing  each 
other  on  both  cheeks ;  elderly  citizens  went  about 
waving  their  hats  and  cheering;  the  younger  folk 
pranced  along  singing  and  shouting.  In  front  of 
the  Hotel  de  VlUe  Jack  saw  thousands  dancing 
the  Carmagnole  round  three  gigantic  bonfires, 
which  threw  the  leaping,  tossing  figures  into  fan- 
tastic silhouettes. 

Hope  and  joy  had  awakened  their  sleeping  sis- 
ter, charity:  good,  kind  people — true  gentlefolk 
these,  and  not  traitors  and  arlstos — had  come  to- 
gether in  a  great  subscription,  "don  patriotiqiie'' 
and  bread  and  wine  had  been  distributed:  Ca  ira, 

63 


Great  Days 

ca  ira.  As  they  danced  round  the  bonfires  and  the 
warmth  penetrated  to  their  chilled  bones,  the 
women  and  men  kicked  off  their  sabots  and 
danced  barefooted  higher  and  higher:  Qa  ira! 
Ca  ira! 

All  night  long  the  town  was  drunk  with  the 
heady  new  wine  of  victory  and  hope,  and  in  the 
morning,  and  for  many  a  morning  after,  proof  of 
the  new  courage  was  to  be  seen  on  every  hand. 
The  killing  of  the  king  had  got  rid  of  an  incubus : 
everyone  felt  lighter  now  that  the  old  man  of 
the  sea  had  been  shaken  from  their  shoulders. 
But  soon  the  leaden  cloud  of  poverty  and  destitu- 
tion settled  down  on  them  again:  inexorable  ne- 
cessity pressing  heavily:  but  now  they  no  longer 
felt  inclined  to  suffer  in  patience;  now  they  would 
strike  back  and  they  struck  savagely,  blindly. 
News  came  to  Bordeaux  that  chateaux  were  being 
burnt  in  every  direction;  the  "defenders  of  the 
fatherland"  were  out  In  force  everywhere,  and 
with  them  red  ruin. 

For  some  four  or  five  days  Riding  found  it  al- 
most impossible  to  do  any  business.  The  cognac 
merchants  were  not  in  their  offices.  Every  night 
he  met  Jack  with  a  story  of  fresh  disappointments. 
But  the  first  brandy  merchant  he  saw  changed  his 
tune.      The   paper    money,    the    "assignats,"    he 

61 


Great  Days 

found,  were  everywhere  discredited  and  looked  on 
as  worthless;  but  gold,  foreign  coins  or  French, 
had  risen  in  equal  measure. 

The  brandy  merchants  were  eager  to  sell  the 
old  brandy  of  ten  or  twenty  years  ago,  the  treas- 
ures of  the  cellar,  at  the  ordinary  price  of  new 
brandy,  and  Riding  made  up  his  mind  to  wait  and 
bargain.  Meanwhile  he  and  Jack  went  about  and 
watched  events.  Jack  bought  an  assignat  of  200 
livres  for  two  francs  and  kept  it  as  a  memento. 

He  was  much  amused  to  see  that  the  land  was 
being  taken  by  the  people  while  the  late  king's 
head  still  figured  on  the  bond. 

Two  scenes  from  that  time  etched  themselves 
indelibly  in  his  mind.  He  had  been  through  the 
town  for  two  or  three  hours,  and  had  been  fol- 
lowed by  a  crowd  of  starving  children.  He  went 
about  looking  for  a  baker's  shop  to  buy  bread, 
with  the  small  coins  he  had  in  his  pocket,  but  could 
find  none  open;  the  bakers'  shops  were  all  closed. 
As  soon  as  the  little  raggamufEns  divined  his  in- 
tention they  swarmed  about  him ;  the  knot  of  ten 
or  twenty  in  a  few  minutes  became  hundreds :  all 
little  children  of  both  sexes  half  naked,  who  fol- 
lowed him  in  silence  with  hungry  eyes,  but  with- 
out begging  and  without  entreaty.  At  length  he 
found  a  cheap  restaurant  and  went  in  and  bought 

65 


Great  Days 

some  bread  and  came  out  with  the  restaurant- 
keeper  and  distributed  it  to  the  hungriest  at  the 
door.  In  a  moment  it  was  all  gone.  The  res- 
taurant-keeper could  only  shrug  his  shoulders,  and 
the  little  white  wedge  faces  seemed  to  have  in- 
creased and  not  diminished  in  number.  Again  and 
again  Jack  went  in  and  bought  bread  for  them  till 
he  had  no  more  money  in  his  pocket.  The  pathos 
of  it  all  drove  him  out  of  the  town  into  the  coun- 
try, and  he  didn't  return  till  nightfall. 

As  he  passed  through  one  street  he  came  on  a 
crowd  of  poor  wretches  in  front  of  a  closed  house, 
which  he  found  was  that  of  a  usurer  who  lent 
money  till  the  next  Saturday — a  la  petite  se- 
maine,  as  It  was  called.  A  number  of  the  poor- 
est people  had  gathered  in  front  of  the  door  at 
nightfall,  so  as  not  to  be  seen  pawning  their  poor 
household  necessaries;  but  Maitre  Guyot,  fright- 
ened by  their  numbers  or  by  the  tales  of  robbery 
that  were  going  about,  had  shut  up  his  house  and 
now  lay  close.  As  the  crowd  grew,  some  knocked 
on  his  door  and  became  insistent.  Just  as  Jack 
came  up,  Guyot  put  his  head,  with  an  old  grey 
nightcap  on,  out  of  a  window  on  the  jfirst  floor 
and  said  he  had  stopped  lending:  he  had  no  more 
money.  Hope  deferred  for  hours  had  sharpened 
the  temper  of  the  crowd,  and  the  usurer's  decla- 

Q6 


Great  Days 

ration  that  he  had  no  money  seemed  to  the  people 
derision.  Murmurs  went  up  on  all  hands  and  wild 
cries  of  "Bread,  bread,"  which  soon  became  a 
hoarse  continuous  chant,  lilted  to  a  sort  of  meas- 
ure: "Bread,  bread:  we  must  have  bread";  il 
nous  faut  du  pain. 

Just  above  the  usurer's  door  a  lantern  stuck  out 
with  a  flickering  oil  lamp  at  the  end,  and  Jack, 
who  had  gone  up  some  steps  at  a  house  on  the 
other  side  of  the  street,  could  see  by  the  flickering 
gleams  a  clear  half  circle  of  the  tossing,  gesticu- 
lating crowd.  Suddenly  a  woman,  who  had  been 
waiting,  found  that  the  little  baby  in  her  arms  had 
died:  the  shock  and  loss  turned  her  brain;  hold- 
ing up  the  tiny  half-naked  figure,  she  screamed: 
"What'll  you  lend  on  it,  Guyot,  now  you've  killed 
it!" 

The  effect  of  the  mad  cry  was  startling:  Guyot 
disappeared  as  first  one  woman  and  then  another 
rushed  at  the  shutters  and  shook  them  with 
skinny  arms;  then  the  foremost  men  began  to 
beat  upon  the  door,  and  in  a  moment,  as  it  seemed, 
the  shutters  were  torn  away,  the  windows  broken, 
the  door  battered  down,  and  the  mob  surged  into 
the  house. 

From  within  came  cries  and  shouts,  torn  with 
a    scream,    and   then    the    ringleaders    burst    out 

67 


Great  Days 

dragging  the  owner  with  them.  One  big  man 
was  holding  the  usurer  by  the  back  of  the  neck 
and  shaking  him  like  a  terrier  a  rat,  and  to  this 
man's  arm  a  fury  was  clinging  who  had  taken  off 
her  wooden  sabot  and  was  beating  the  usurer's 
head  with  It.  As  they  came  into  the  light  Jack 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  fellow's  white  face 
streaming  with  blood,  wild-eyed  in  an  agony 
of  terror.  The  next  moment  a  rope  was 
found  and  in  a  trice  Maitre  Guyot  was  slung  up 
to  the  lantern  over  his  own  door:  his  usury 
all  ended. 

While  he  was  still  swinging  the  women  went  on 
beating  and  scratching  at  him  till  they  had  torn 
all  his  clothes  from  him  and  the  corpse  hung  there 
naked,  shameless,  insensible. 

Suddenly  a  woman,  who  had  been  clawing  the 
naked  limbs,  in  an  ecstasy  of  rage,  held  up  a  long 
strip  of  flesh,  squealing: 

"Look,  look,  there's  no  blood  in  him,  the 
damned  miser!  no  blood!"  and  indeed  the  blood 
had  ceased  to  flow  from  the  meagre  body.  The 
phrase  and  gesture  lived  with  Jack  for  years. 

Meanwhile  the  house  had  been  sacked  from 
cellar  to  roof-tree.  Jack  saw  people  munching 
the  bread  and  meat  and  drinking  the  wine  they 
had  found,  while  others  of  the  crowd  were  pull- 

68 


Great  Days 

ing  on  the  usurer's  clothes  or  wrapping  them- 
selves In  his  bedgear. 

Suddenly  someone  broke  into  a  song  and  im- 
mediately the  crowd  began  dancing  the  Car- 
magnole  about  the  door,  the  women  kicking  up 
their  legs  and  exposing  themselves  in  an  outburst 
of  savage  joy  and  triumph. 

Jack  hurried  away;  but  the  scene  went  with 
him :  he  could  shut  his  eyes  and  see  the  thin  body 
of  the  usurer  dangling  to  and  fro  with  the  blood 
staining  his  forehead  and  face,  and  his  legs,  from 
which  the  flesh  hung  in  strips  like  bark — a  dread- 
ful, ominous  sign,  Jack  felt — a  portent  if  ever 
there  was  one. 

Two  or  three  days  later  the  second  picture. 

Jack  had  learned  that  Tallien,  with  his  bristly 
red  head,  reigned  now  in  Bordeaux,  Tallien  the 
fiery  hot  man,  and  Isabeau,  his  lieutenant,  with 
their  revolutionary  followers,  "the  red  nightcaps," 
as  they  were  called.  By  and  by  he  heard  that  the 
prison  was  filled  with  aristocrats  who  had  been 
found  guilt}^  and  sentenced  to  death  by  Tallien's 
Tribunal.  Jack  had  seen  the  guillotine  set  up  in 
the  square,  but  it  was  pure  chance  that  he  came 
across  the  cortege  taking  the  new  criminals  to 
their  doom.  First  of  all  a  band  of  soldiers  rigged 
out,  as  it  seemed  to  Jack,  In  the  queerest  costumes. 

69 


Great  Days 

He  couldn't  take  his  eyes  off  their  steeple-like  hats 
banded  with  yellow  and  gold.  Behind  them  came 
a  detachment  of  town  guards,  all  Bordelais, 
whose  only  uniform  seemed  to  be  a  cockade,  the 
red,  white  and  blue  rosette  of  the  new  tricolour 
or  national  flag.  Then  surrounding  the  prisoners' 
death-carts  tramped  a  band  of  Tallien's  "Bonnets 
Rouges,"  all  in  red  caps  with  tricolour  waistcoats, 
black  trousers  and  spencers,  with  defiant,  long, 
black  moustaches  for  the  most  part,  and  enormous 
sabres  with  brass  handles,  carved  to  represent  a 
cock's  head,  and  round  these  true  "defenseurs  de 
la  patrie"  wisps  of  ragged  children  of  both  sexes 
dancing,  cheering,  squealing  in  a  state  of  frantic 
excitement. 

In  the  middle  three  tumbrils,  high  two-wheeled 
carts,  creaked  along  filled  with  prisoners,  and  ac- 
companying them  a  vast  crowd  of  men  and  wom- 
en of  the  lowest  class. 

Jack  stared  with  all  his  eyes :  he  had  never 
imagined  such  mad  rage  or  misery :  right  in  front 
of  him  ran  men  naked  to  the  waist,  who  paused 
every  now  and  then  to  shake  dirty  fists  at  the 
prisoners  and  scream  insults  at  them — "scoun- 
drels, traitors,  aristos!"  Near  him  women  look- 
ing more  like  demons  than  human  beings,  one  of 
them  clothed  in  nothing  but  a  blanket  held  to- 

70 


Great  Days 

gether  by  a  broad  leathern  girdle  at  the  waist. 
As  she  scurried  along,  the  blanket  now  and  then 
swung  aside,  showing  her  nudity:  at  other  times 
it  flapped  about  her  starved  figure  as  a  flag  flaps 
round  its  pole.  Another  fury  with  floating  red 
hair,  dressed  in  a  man's  coat,  which  left  her  legs 
bare  like  a  fowl's,  went  shrieking  by  as  if  mad: 
then  came  a  knot  all  together  dancing  like  fiends 
and  shouting  jubilantly  and  gesticulating:  never 
had  Jack  imagined  such  wild,  hating  faces :  they 
fascinated  him  so  that  at  first  he  took  no  notice 
of  the  prisoners. 

To  his  astonishment  the  first  tumbril  was  al- 
most filled  with  naval  officers  in  their  uniforms. 

"What  have  they  done?"  he  asked:  one  of 
the  crowd  replied,  passionately,  spitting  on  the 
ground  with  rage : 

"The  naval  officers  are  all  aristos,"  he  cried, 
"traitors  to  the  people:  they  must  all  be  guillo- 
tined— shortened  by  a  head." 

"Tons,  tons,"  screamed  his  neighbours — "all  of 
them,  all." 

In  the  next  tumbril  were  some  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen: seated  in  the  middle  one  lady  of  stately 
figure.  She  was  perhaps  fifty  or  thereabouts, 
with  grey  hair  and  set  white  face  of  disdain :  the 
women  of  the  street  screamed  foul  words  at  her: 

71 


Great  Days 

her  dark  eyes  stared  out  past  them  with  absolute 
indifference :  suddenly  a  gentleman  turned  and 
spoke  to  her:  Jack  stared;  he  was  the  living 
image  of  old  Sir  George  Barron;  he  smiled  at  the 
lady  and  waved  his  hand  contemptuously  over  the 
crowd  with  Sir  George  Barron's  very  gesture. 

In  the  third  tumbril  the  miserable  creatures 
huddled  together  and  Jack  saw  only  a  young  girl 
with  pale,  frightened  face ;  the  great  dark  eyes 
were  too  large  for  the  white  triangle  of  terror 
which  framed  them;  a  long  strand  of  black  hair 
had  fallen  over  her  shoulder  and  hung  down  in 
front;  she  seemed  half  unconscious  with  dread. 
Then  came  more  soldiers  riding,  the  steeple-hats 
all  barred  with  red  and  gold,  wasp-like,  and  ail 
round  and  behind  them  the  mad  crowd  dancing, 
shrilling,  shouting  as  if  hell  had  broken  loose. 

Suddenly  the  band  struck  up  and,  as  if  by 
magic,  the  crowd  began  to  take  up  the  words  of 
the  song,  shaking  all  the  spaces  of  the  air  with 
the  wild  challenge  of  the  music. 

"What's  that,  what's  that?"  cried  Jack.  Rid- 
ing questioned  a  passer-by: 

"The  song  has  come  from  Marseilles,"  he  said, 
"it's  the  song  of  the  Revolution.  Splendid;  isn't 
it?" 

"Yes,   indeed,"   cried  Jack,   his  pulses  beating 

72 


Great  Days 

high  in  spite  of  himself,  "splendid,"  and  almost 
involuntarily  his  voice  joined  in  the  great  chant : 
"Allons,  enfants  de  la  patrie.   ..." 

Long  after  the  carts  and  crowd  and  soldiers 
had  vanished  he  could  still  hear  the  passionate  de- 
fiance of  the  song,  and  found  himself  humming  the 
wild  melody. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  he  asked  Riding. 

Riding  stretched  out  his  hands :  "You  know 
as  much  about  it  as  I  do,"  he  answered  simply: 
"but  that's  the  hymn  of  it,  I  think." 

In  silence  they  both  went  back  towards  the  ship. 
They  had  seen  the  revolution  in  action,  and  had 
heard  the  defiant  soul  of  it  thrilling  to  Heaven  in 
the  Marseillaise. 


73 


CHAPTER  V 

THAT  visit  to  Bordeaux  taught  Jack  that  war 
between  England  and  France  was  at  hand. 
He  knew  that  Pitt  was  drifting  and  being  pushed 
to  war  by  the  so-called  Tory  elements  and  by  King 
George  III,  who  always  declared  that  his  earlier 
concessions  to  the  Whigs  had  caused  the  French 
revolution  as  who  should  say  a  whirling  haulm  of 
straw  had  caused  the  wind. 

The  English,  Jack  knew,  had  become  hostile 
and  contemptuous,  and  now  he  saw  that  the 
French  had  grown  prouder  than  ever  of  their 
revolution,  which  was  abolishing  sectional  differ- 
ences of  speech,  costume  and  thought,  and  giving 
them  an  intenser  national  life  and  a  national  army 
as  well — an  army  triumphant.  The  temper  on 
both  sides  was  becoming  irreconcilable:  the  Eng- 
lish were  simply  incapable  of  understanding  the 
revolution:  the  French  were  impatient  of  crit- 
icism and  resentful  of  unfriendliness. 

When  he  reached  Hurstpoint  again  he  found 
that  war  had  been  declared,  and  he  was  probably 

74 


Great  Days 

the  only  person  In  the  village  except  Riding  who 
deplored  the  fact.  The  gentry  and  clergy  were 
alike  jubilant:  once  again  the  old  flag  would  go 
forth  to  victory.  Even  Mr.  Carrol  preached  war- 
like sermons,  and  the  younger  folk  had  all  taken 
the  infection  still  more  wildly. 

Jack  felt  as  if  the  people  had  gone  mad;  for 
the  life  of  him  he  couldn't  see  what  there  was  to 
fight  about,  and  when  he  questioned  his  father  and 
Riding  he  could  get  no  satisfaction.  His  father 
looked  at  the  matter  from  a  purely  business  and 
personal  point  of  view.  He  told  Jack  at  once  that 
smuggling  would  certainly  be  easier  now,  and  he 
thought  of  killing  two  birds  with  one  stone  by  fit- 
ting out  the  Dolphin  as  a  privateer.  In  this  way 
she  might  earn  double  money :  he  Intended  to  take 
a  hand  In  the  game  himself.  Jack  was  surprised 
to  see  the  look  of  greed  that  came  into  the  old 
man's  face  as  he  talked.  The  son  began  to  real- 
ize that  his  father  was  utterly  unlike  the  hero  he 
had  made  of  him  In  his  boyhood;  he  was  avari- 
cious, In  love  with  money,  Intent  on  gain — cunning 
rather  than  heroic.  The  growing  conviction  dis- 
tressed Jack;  for  some  time  he  refused  to  harbour 
the  new  image. 

With  every  day,  it  seemed,  the  abyss  between 
him  and  his  countrymen  and  even  his  nearest  and 

75 


Great  Days 

dearest  grew  wider,  and  his  heart  contracted  In 
misery  at  the  mere  thought  of  such  estrangement 
and  Isolation.  The  young  expect  sympathy  and 
affection.  For  a  long  time  he  had  no  Inkhng  of 
the  fact  that  such  suffering  brings  Its  own  com- 
pensation. This  alienation  from  kinsfolk  and 
country  was  Jack  Morgan's  Slough  of  Despond, 
the  first  stage  of  his  pilgrimage.  He  did  not  yet 
know  that  as  the  parting  was  Inevitable  the 
sooner  It  came  the  better :  cuts  heal  best  In  young 
flesh.   .   .   . 

There  were  long  conferences  In  the  Inn-parlor 
between  Riding  and  Gosport  and  his  father,  con- 
ferences In  which  Jack  sometimes  took  part.  They 
all  wanted  to  make  the  Dolphin  as  fast  as  possi- 
ble: speed,  as  his  father  said,  meant  power  to 
attack  and  power  to  escape  at  will.  Jack  was 
surprised  to  see  that  his  father  had  called  Chips, 
the  skipper  of  the  Mary,  Into  council.  The  truth 
was  Chips  was  a  born  racing  Captain;  he  could 
get  more  speed  out  of  a  fore-and-after  than  any- 
one in  Hurstpolnt.  By  his  advice  lead  was  sub- 
stituted for  the  iron  ballast  and  "bonnets"  were 
fitted  to  Increase  the  spread  of  sail:  "a  capful  of 
wind  makes  all  the  difference  sometimes,"  he  said, 
and  everyone  agreed  with  the  suggestion.  But  the 
great  discussion  arose  about  the  arming:   Morgan 

76 


Great  Days 

suggested  three  or  four  six-pound  carronades;  but 
Gosport  scoffed  at  the  idea:  "popguns  are  no 
good,"  he  declared,  "every  ship  you  meet  will 
carry  more  guns  and  heavier:  make  the  Dolphin 
a  wasp :  give  us  one  long  eighteen-pounder  and 
ship  it  midships  on  a  swivel,  abaft  the  main  hatch 
for  choice,  and  you  have  a  weapon  that'll  do  some 
damage." 

Chips  was  afraid  the  recoil  of  the  heavy  gun 
would  shake  the  little  craft  to  pieces  and  dimin- 
ish her  speed;  but  Gosport  wouldn't  have  it. 
"It's  only  a  question  of  pullies,"  he  argued,  "to 
distribute  the  strain." 

Without  having  any  particular  reason  to  urge 
Jack  agreed  with  Gosport  and  was  glad  to  see 
that  his  father,  too,  was  convinced  by  the  man's 
cocksureness. 

The  whole  project  might  have  ended  in  talk, 
however,  had  it  not  been  for  that  ist  of  June 
jwhen  Admiral  Howe  beat  the  French  fleet  off 
Brest.  The  victory  called  forth  an  astonishing 
outburst  of  patriotic  feeling,  and  while  the  bon- 
fires were  still  smouldering  on  all  the  heights 
Morgan  decided  to  send  Gosport  and  Riding  in 
the  Mary  to  Portsmouth  for  the  best  possible 
cannon  and  a  large  supply  of  ammunition :  the 
Dolphin's  crew  was  to  be  increased  to  thirty  men ; 

77 


Great  Days 

all  the  best  sailors  being  taken  from  the  Mary, 
which  was  to  be  left  as  a  mere  fishing  boat  and 
tender  to  help  the  Dolphin  in  the  smuggling  part 
of  the  business. 

In  a  couple  of  months  everything  was  ready. 
Morgan  had  been  to  London  and  got  the  author- 
ization to  fit  out  the  little  craft  as  a  privateer. 
Riding  had  bought  the  big  gun  and  Gosport  had 
had  it  mounted  in  the  very  centre  of  the  vessel: 
the  swivel  action  and  the  tackling,  too,  had  all 
been  tested  with  good  results.  With  native  con- 
servatism most  of  the  seamen  and  all  the  onlook- 
ers on  the  quay  thought  the  great  gun  destroyed 
the  look  of  the  taut  little  craft.  "It  makes  her 
topheavy,"  they  said;  but  they  really  meant  that 
it  was  new  to  them,  and  took  away  from  the  cut- 
ter's trim  lines. 

"Let  'em  talk,"  said  Gosport,  "war  is  not  a 
matter  of  looks." 

On  one  of  his  trips  down  to  the  vessel  Jack  was 
surprised  to  meet  Crosby  walking  with  young 
Barron  and  Captain  Nugent. 

"When  do  you  start?"  asked  Nugent. 

"The  day  isn't  fixed  yet,"  was  Jack's  answer. 

"I  should  like  to  come  with  you,"  cried  Barron, 
his  fine  face  flushing  with  excitement. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,"  said  Crosby,  contemptuous- 

78 


Great  Days 

ly,  "a  privateer  is  next  door  to  a  pirate;  you 
couldn't  have  anything  to  do  with  it." 

"Why  not?"  said  Jack  quietly. 

"Because  a  Barron  couldn't,"  said  Crosby,  con- 
temptuously. 

Jack  saw  that  the  fellow  was  only  trying  to 
annoy  him,  and  so,  with  a  nod  and  smile  to  Bar- 
ron, he  went  his  way.  Captain  Nugent  cried  after 
him  that  he  intended  to  see  them  off  and  wish 
them  luck.  But  the  elder  Morgan  had  no  taste 
for  ceremonies.  He  went  on  board  with  Jack 
one  evening  at  nine  o'clock,  and  within  an  hour 
they  had  slipped  out  to  sea  under  cover  of  the 
night.  By  daybreak  they  were  out  of  sight  of 
land. 

Jack  was  astonished  to  find  that  at  the  prospect 
of  a  fight  Gosport  became  a  new  man:  he  threw 
off  all  his  sullenness,  was  full  of  suggestions,  and 
took  the  lead  in  an  extraordinary  way.  The  day 
was  very  calm,  so  Gosport  proposed  to  rig  out  a 
barrel  and  practice  shooting  at  it  from  a  distance. 
The  elder  Morgan  yielded  to  this  very  reluctantly. 

"It  will  make  a  great  noise,"  he  said,  "and  may 
bring  some  big  ships  down  on  us:  besides  am- 
munition costs  money :  what's  the  good  of  playing 
at  fighting?" 

"The  good  of  playing  at  fighting,"  replied  Gos- 

79 


Great  Days 

port,  "is  that,  when  the  real  thing  comes,  fighting 
will  be  playing.  Let  me  alone,  gov-ernor,  and  in 
time  you'll  see  I'm  right." 

The  very  first  practice  shot  showed  that  he  was 
right,  for  the  big  gun  carried  away  a  couple  of 
the  pullies,  and  in  the  recoil  almost  crushed  Gibby, 
who  was  acting  as  gunner's  mate.  But  everyone 
was  astonished  to  find  how  close  the  big  shot  went 
to  the  mark — within  ten  or  twelve  feet  of  it,  in- 
deed, at  three  hundred  yards.  Only  Gosport  was 
disappointed.  He  fitted  a  sort  of  wooden  thing 
painted  white  to  the  end  of  the  cannon,  and  this 
time  came  even  nearer  the  mark.  Riding  was  in- 
tensely interested;  said  he  had  never  seen  such 
good  shooting;  but  Gosport  was  far  from  satis- 
fied. He  declared  he  could  do  very  much  better, 
and  would  show  them  on  the  morrow  that  he 
could  hit  the  cask  three  times  out  of  six  in  a  calm 
sea,  and  go  quite  close  to  it  always.  But  he  had 
already  accomplished  a  good  deal:  he  had 
convinced  everyone  who  knew  anything  about 
shooting  of  the  truth  of  his  theory,  and  had 
inspired  the  crew  with  complete  confidence  in 
his  skill. 

As  evening  drew  on  they  were  favoured  with 
a  light  air  from  the  west,  and  stood  towards  the 
French  coast;   next  morning  Jack  found  the  land 

80 


Great  Days 

like  a  dim  cloud  under  their  lee.  They  had  got 
down,  his  father  said,  between  the  Channel 
Islands  and  St.  Malo,  and  had  to  keep  a  sharp 
lookout.  In  the  afternoon  they  picked  out  a 
couple  of  big  three-masted  vessels  close  in  shore, 
and  soon  found  that  one  was  following  them. 
They  jogged  along  under  easy  canvas,  jib,  and  a 
three-reefed  mainsail  till  the  stranger  came  into 
plain  view,  and  then  realising  that  she  was  a 
French  frigate  they  set  all  sail  to  increase  the 
distance  between  them.  But  the  frigate  did  the 
like :  in  a  few  seconds  she  was  covered  with  can- 
vas from  the  royals  to  the  bulwarks,  and  looked 
like  a  great  white  cloud  bellying  along.  At  first 
she  gained  on  them,  but  as  soon  as  they  clapped 
on  the  "bonnets"  that  Chips  had  proposed,  and  a 
big  square  topsail,  it  was  found  that  the  little  cut- 
ter not  only  held  two  points  closer  to  the  wind 
than  the  Frenchman,  but  also  went  faster  through 
the  water.  It  was  only  a  question  of  time  and  she 
would  weather  her  and  lose  her.  When  the 
Frenchmen  saw  this  they  let  their  ship  fall  away 
and  sent  a  whole  broadside  at  the  Mttle  cutter. 
But  all  they  hit  was  air  and  sea.  The  sailors 
cheered  and  cheered  again,  as  they  saw  the  shots 
splashing  and  skipping  half  a  mile  away.  The 
spirits  of  everyone  on  board  rose  higher:   Riding 

81 


Great  Days 

laughed  his  great  laugh:  "We  have  got  tht  heels 
of  'em  all,"  he  cried. 

The  discharge  of  the  broadside  was  the  last 
effort  of  the  French  ship:  a  little  while  after- 
wards she  went  about  and  stood  in  for  the  land. 
An  hour  later  the  Dolphin,  too,  was  allowed  to 
fall  away  and  headed  again  for  the  French  coast. 
Next  day  when  they  were  off  the  Sables  d'Olonne 
they  caught  sight  of  a  French  brig  hull  down 
ahead  going  their  way;  probably  a  coaster  from 
Dunkirk  bound  for  Bordeaux  for  wine  and 
brandy.  The  elder  Morgan  thought  they'd  have 
a  look  at  her,  and  so  they  ran  up  the  square  top- 
sail and  let  the  cutter  travel  free.  In  two  hours 
they  could  see  the  brig's  hull.  The  Frenchman 
must  have  noticed  them,  too,  but  he  probably 
thought  the  Dolphin  too  small  to  be  dangerous, 
for  he  held  on  his  course  imperturbably  and  ap- 
peared to  pay  no  attention  to  his  pursuer.  As  the 
Dolphin  crept  up  suppositions  and  conjectures 
flew  about.  From  the  fact  that  the  brig  didn't 
try  to  avoid  them  most  of  the  sailors  were  in- 
clined to  believe  that  she  was  armed.  This  view 
commended  itself  to  the  elder  Morgan. 

"I'm  afraid  it's  a  trick,"  he  said,  watching  the 
brig  carefully  through  half-shut  grey  eyes.  "Keep 
your  course  there,"   he   cried  to  the  helmsman, 

82 


Great  Days 

"we'll  pass  her  on  the  weather  so  as  to  make 
sure:  she's  not  worth  much  or  she'd  try  to  get 
out  of  the  way." 

Gosport  had  made  up  his  mind  at  once,  and 
was  busied  about  his  popgun,  as  he  called  it.  He 
had  adjusted  the  white  painted  wooden  thing  near 
the  muzzle  of  the  gun,  and  now  he  had  arranged 
another  just  in  front  of  the  touch-hole.  As  Jack 
was  beside  him,  following  his  movements  intently, 
he  explained  the  contrivance  to  him. 

"They  are  sights,"  he  said.  "If  you  get  this 
spot  in  the  centre  of  the  V  in  front  and  on  the 
object  you  must  shoot  straight." 

Jack  was  delighted  with  the  contrivance. 
"What  a  good  idea,"  he  cried,  "is  it  your  own  in- 
vention?" 

"No,  no,"  said  Gosport,  "it's  an  American  in- 
vention, it  was  the  cause  of  nearly  all  their  vic- 
tories over  our  ships  in  the  late  war.  They  had 
sights  on  their  guns,  and  that  was  the  reason  they 
shot  so  much  better  than  we  did."  * 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  brig?"  cried  Jack. 

"A     coaster,"     rejoined    Gosport,     carelessly, 

*  Gosport  was  undoubtedly  right.  Though  never  mentioned 
by  any  historian,  the  sights  which  the  Americans  invented  for 
their  cannon  in  the  revolutionary  war  was  one  of  the  chief 
causes  of  their  naval  superiority. 

83 


Great  Days 

**with  probably  six-pound  carronades  on  board 
and  forty  or  fifty  men." 

"But  can  we  beat  her?"  cried  Jack. 

"You'll  soon  see,"  said  Gosport,  his  heavy  face 
alight  with  confident  energy.  "Her  little  milk 
teeth  won't  do  much  against  our  sting,"  and  he 
slapped  the  big  eighteen-pounder  as  he  spoke. 

All  this  while  the  Dolphin  crew  were  preparing 
for  the  fight  in  the  usual  way:  pistols  were  cleaned 
and  charged;  cutlasses  got  out  and  belted  on,  and 
the  narrow  decks  were  soon  filled  with  men  armed 
to  the  teeth,  and  hoping  to  come  hand  to  hand 
with  the  enemy. 

In  an  hour  the  Dolphin  was  on  the  quarter  of 
the  brig  half  a  mile  to  windward.  Morgan  ran 
the  Union  Jack  up  to  the  mast  head  and  told  Gos- 
port to  throw  a  shot  across  the  brig's  bow  just 
to  bring  her  to.  But  Gosport  was  not  minded  to 
waste  his  shot.  He  ran  the  cutter  nearer  still  and 
then  after  careful  aim  fired:  the  bowsprit  of  the 
brig  swayed  about  gracefully  at  the  same  moment 
and  fell  Into  the  water,  dragging  down  with  it 
the  fore  top-mast,  and  all  the  jibs.  In  a 
second  the  brig  was  practically  a  wreck;  but  the 
Frenchmen  showed  no  fear.  They  managed  to 
yaw  the  brig  and  four  reports  rang  out:  but  she 
only  carried  six-pound  carronades,  so  the  shots 

84 


Great  Days 

didn't  do  much  harm,  though  one  of  them  chipped 
a  piece  out  of  the  Dolphin's  mast. 

"Keep  her  away  there,  you  lubber,  keep  her 
away,"  cried  Morgan  to  the  helmsman,  "we  can 
pepper  her  without  being  touched." 

The  Dolphin  then  kept  her  distance,  while  Gos- 
port  fired  the  big  gun  as  carefully  as  he  could. 

Jack  was  surprised  to  see  the  excitement  the 
cannonading  called  forth  among  the  sailors ;  most 
of  them  had  thrown  off  their  jackets,  but  Gibby 
and  some  of  the  rest  had  stripped  to  the  waist  like 
prizefighters,  and  were  yelling  and  cheering  and 
shouting  obscenities  at  every  shot  like  madmen. 

"Why  don't  you  keep  your  clothes  on  and  your 
mouth  shut,"  cried  Gosport  to  him,  contemptu- 
ously:  "will  a  cold  help  you  to  fight,  ye  swab?" 

Jack  felt  that  Gosport's  cool,  thoughtful  atti- 
tude was  incomparably  more  dangerous  than  the 
attempt  to  whip  oneself  into  a  rage. 

The  first  few  shots  fired  made  little  difference, 
though  each  of  them  struck  the  brig  as  one  could 
see  by  the  white  splinters  flying.  But  the  fifth 
shot  had  a  tremendous  effect;  the  little  cutter  by 
this  time  had  forged  right  ahead  of  the  French 
brig,  and  the  shot  raked  her  deck,  smashing  two 
of  the  carronades  and  killing  five  or  six  of  the 
men.     The  Frenchmen  fought  on  pluckily :    they 

85 


Great  Days 

dragged  two  of  the  carronades  from  leeward  and 
mounted  them  in  the  place  of  the  disabled  ones, 
and  fired  again  at  the  English  sloop.  But  their 
shots  fell  short,  while  every  one  of  the  Dolphin's 
shots  struck  home  and  did  damage. 

Jack  felt  at  once  that  there  could  be  only  one 
end  to  such  a  one-sided  conflict:  he  couldn't  un- 
derstand why  the  French  captain  went  on  expos- 
ing his  men  to  useless  slaughter.  It  was  clearly 
only  a  question  of  a  few  minutes  and  he  must  pull 
down  his  flag.  Suddenly  the  Dolphins  began  to 
cheer :  feebly  fluttering,  the  tricolour  left  the  mast 
and  came  down  to  the  deck:  before  the  order  was 
given  the  Dolphin  crew  stood  ready  to  let  the 
boats  down. 

"Hold  fast  there,"  cried  Morgan,  "load  again, 
Gosport,  and  stand  by  to  fire;  they  might  be  up 
to  some  trick." 

Then  he  gave  orders  to  lower  away  the  gig  and, 
at  Jack's  request,  put  him  into  it  with  Riding  and 
sent  six  men  with  them  to  take  possession  of  the 
brig.  As  they  stepped  on  board  the  vessel  the 
French  captain  came  forward  and  said  sulkily  that 
he  hoped  for  fair  treatment.  Riding  took  off  his 
hat  and  replied  in  French  with  all  courtesy. 

Jack  could  do  nothing  but  stare  at  the  ship's 
deck.     The  brig  was  much  larger  than  he  had 

86 


Great  Days 

thought,  and  the  deck  was  a  shambles,  covered 
everywhere  with  splinters  of  wood  and  splashes 
and  puddles  of  blood.  For  the  first  time  he  real- 
ized what  the  fighting  had  meant  in  bloodshed. 
The  brig  had  had  sixty  men  on  board:  and  the 
big  eighteen-pounder  had  done  frightful  execu- 
tion: nine  men  had  been  killed  outright  and 
seventeen  wounded :  in  the  lee  scuppers,  just  oppo- 
site to  them,  there  was  a  decapitated  body  in  a 
pool  of  blood,  and  the  head  rolling  about  with 
staring  eyes,  as  if  alive,  turned  Jack  sick.  All  the 
fight  had  been  knocked  out  of  the  French  sailors 
by  the  hopelessness  of  the  struggle.  A  phrase  of 
Gosport's  came  to  Jack's  mind  as  he  looked  at 
them  all  huddled  together  with  downcast  faces  in 
the  waist  of  the  ship:  "You  soon  get  tired  of 
fighting  when  you  can't  hit  back." 

In  the  meantime  one  or  two  of  the  officers  at 
Riding's  request  had  taken  the  wounded  men 
down  below  and  were  attending  to  them.  Riding 
arranged  with  the  Captain  that  some  of  the 
French  crew  should  clear  away  the  broken  spars 
and  rigging  and  ship  one  of  the  topmasts  as  a  jib 
boom,  and  so  make  it  possible  to  sail  the  brig 
again.  He  sent  the  gig  to  the  Dolphin  with  Jack 
to  give  the  news  and  bring  back  a  dozen  men :  it 
would  need  at  least  that  number,  he  thought,  to 

87 


Great  Days 

sail  the  brig  to  England  and  keep  the  French  crew 
in  subjection. 

The  elder  Morgan  was  delighted  at  Jack's  ac- 
count. He  rubbed  his  hands  and  told  Jack  that 
even  without  any  cargo  the  brig  alone  was  worth 
four  or  five  thousand  pounds: 

"She'll  make  us  rich,  my  boy,"  he  cried,  "now 
what  we  must  do  is  to  get  her  home  safely.  Take 
some  fifteen  men  and  Riding  and  get  her  ship- 
shape as  quickly  as  possible,  and  let  us  start  back. 
I  shall  hardly  sleep  till  I  see  the  Head." 

Jack  filled  his  boat  with  men,  calling  first  for 
those  he  knew,  chiefly  old  Dolphin  men  and,  of 
course,  Weetman,  whom  he  couldn't  leave  out. 

In  a  few  minutes  all  the  Frenchmen  were  dis- 
armed and  confined  in  the  fo'castle,  with  Widdi- 
son  armed  to  the  teeth  as  their  guardian.  The 
three  officers  and  the  Captain  were  transferred 
to  the  Dolphin.  In  a  couple  of  hours  the  worst 
of  the  damage  had  been  repaired;  jury  spars 
rigged,  new  sails  bent,  decks  cleaned  down,  and 
all  possible  canvas  set,  and  the  two  vessels  were 
moving  side  by  side  towards  the  English  coast. 

A  little  before  sunset  a  light  breeze  came  off 
the  land  and  at  once  the  brig,  her  great  square- 
sails  all  drawing,  began  to  make  good  way.  Be- 
fore the  wind  at  any  rate  she  was  at  least  as  good 

88 


Great  Days 

2L  sailor  as  the  cutter,  for  when  they  got  her  fairly 
going  they  saw  that  the  cutter  had  to  run  out  a 
square-sail  to  Hve  with  them.  It  soon  became 
clear  that  on  this  point  of  sailing  the  French  brig, 
with  her  greater  power  and  length,  was  superior 
to  the  little  fore-and-aft  sloop.  As  they  slipped 
through  the  water  about  eight  knots  an  hour,  the 
Dolphin  could  hardly  keep  up  with  her  big  cap- 
tive. 

It  was  with  the  strangest  feelings  of  pride  and 
excited  wonder  that  Jack  went  down  into  the  cabin 
about  seven  o'clock  to  have  his  supper  with  Rid- 
ing: the  French  cook  had  prepared  it;  he  and 
his  aid  had  volunteered  for  the  job,  and  Riding 
was  only  too  glad  of  their  willingness,  for  even 
with  twenty  Englishmen  on  board,  the  brig  was 
rather  a  handful. 

The  table  was  laid  with  white  linen,  and  the 
pair  sat  down  to  a  good  meal,  washed  down  with 
excellent  Bordeaux. 

"Now  this  is  what  I  like,"  said  Riding,  with 
one  of  his  great  laughs. 

"Yes,"  replied  Jack;  "but  the  fight  was  not  a 
bit  what  I  had  imagined  a  sea-fight  would  be  like." 

"It  could  hardly  be  called  a  fight,"  said  Rid- 
ing, "it  was  great  luck  hitting  his  bowsprit  first 
shot." 

89 


Great  Days 

"The  luck  didii't  matter."  Jack  persisted,  "it 
shortened  the  affair,  but  that  was  all:  we  were 
alwavs  sure  of  winning  thanks  to  Gosport's 
brains."  he  added. 

"He's  a  great  shot,"  laughed  Riding,  and  Jack 
agreed,  but  he  was  hardly  satisfied  with  this  view 
of  the  matter.  Gosports  example  had  taught  him 
that  victory  in  battle  was  no  longer  a  question 
chieflv  of  courage  and  endurance:  in  the  future 
he  felt  it  would  be  more  and  more  a  matter  of 
brains,  foresight  and  preparation,  and  success 
could  be  reckoned  upon.  The  new  view  made  him 
thoughtful. 

A  httle  later  Riding  resumed  the  talk : 

*T  expect  the  governor  will  want  to  sell  the  brig 
and  put  the  money  by,"  he  began,  "but  what  a 
pity  he  doesn't  turn  her  into  another  privateer, 
arm  her  with  Gosport's  eighteen-pounders  and 
let  us  go  out  again  with  eighty  men  on  board." 

Jack  took  fire  at  the  suggestion.  "That's  what 
we  must  do,''  he  said.  ...  "I  think  I  can  per- 
suade my  father." 

When  they  came  up  on  deck  they  found  that 
die  fair  wind  had  freshened:  the  Dolphin's  light 
still  shone  clear  on  their  quarter,  and  so  they  held 
on  through  the  night. 

The  return  home  was  as  eventful  to  Jack  as 

PO 


Great  Days 

even  the  fight  and  the  lesson  of  Gosport's  gun- 
nery. Next  morning  Riding  and  he  had  a  talk 
with  the  French  sailors  and,  at  their  request,  let 
half  a  dozen  of  them  at  a  time  up  on  deck  to  help 
sail  the  brig.  He  soon  found  they  were  capital 
fellows,  not  inferior  in  bodily  strength  or  quick- 
ness to  the  English,  and  just  as  good  sailors. 
When  he  remarked  on  this  Riding  told  him  that 
the  sailors  from  the  North  coast  of  France  were 
excellent:  but  the  sailors  from  the  Mediterranean 
and  Marseilles,  where  there  is  usually  fine 
weather,  were  not  so  good:  "Bad  weather  makes 
good  seamen."  This  brought  a  phrase  of  Gos- 
port's about  the  Americans  into  Jack's  head. 
Talking  of  the  American  sailors  one  day  he  sur- 
prised Jack  by  calling  them  the  best  seamen  in  the 
world. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  cried  Jack. 

"The  coast  of  Maine,"  repHed  Gosport,  "is  the 
worst  in  the  world,  dangerous  in  itself,  and  with 
an  awful  winter  climate:  none  but  good  seamen 
well-fed  could  stand  the  strain." 

Jack  was  forced  to  realise  that  all  handicaps 
and  disadvantages  in  life  call  forth  higher  quali- 
ties in  men. 

The  result  of  the  fight  had  put  Gosport  on  a 
pinnacle :   Riding  and  the  elder  Morgan  and  Jack 

91 


Great  Days 

at  any  rate  all  knew  that  the  happy  issue  had  been 
due  solely  to  him,  and  Jack  in  particular  was  in- 
clined to  take  his  opinion  before  that  of  anyone 
else.  Seizing  the  first  opportunity  he  asked  him 
what  he  thought  about  fitting  out  the  brig  as  a 
privateer.  To  his  delight  Gosport  welcomed  the 
idea  enthusiastically. 

"The  brig's  a  fine  sailor,"  he  said,  "though  I 
have  seen  faster :  but  properly  armed  and 
equipped  she'd  be  a  tough  customer." 

"You'd  arm  her  with  eighteen-pounders?"  cried 
Jack,  hastily. 

"No,  no,"  said  Gosport,  "the  object  is  to  hit 
without  being  hit  in  return.  I'd  put  two  thirty- 
two  pounders  on  her,  and  a  sixty-eight  pounder 
amidships  like  my  popgun  there.  The  brig  '11 
stand  it,  she's  solidly  built." 

Nothing  would  suit  Jack  but  that  he  should  go 
on  board  the  Dolphin  at  once  in  order  to  explain 
it  all,  and  to  persuade  his  father.  Accordingly 
next  morning  they  signalled  to  the  Dolphin  and 
he  was  rowed  on  board. 


92 


CHAPTER  VI 

JACK'S  enthusiasm  was  quickly  chilled  by  his 
father.  As  soon  as  he  got  on  board  he 
opened  the  subject,  but  his  father  wouldn't  hear 
of  it:  he  was  all  for  selling  the  brig  and  investing 
the  money. 

"Fighting  is  too  risky  for  me,"  he  said,  "let  the 
poor  fight,  the  rich  should  keep  what  they  have." 

"But  if  we  made  four  thousand  pounds  with 
the  Dolphin  we  may  make  forty  thousand  with 
the  brig." 

"Yes,"  replied  his  father,  "and  you  may  lose 
the  brig,  too,  and  see  the  inside  of  a  French 
prison  to  boot." 

Jack  pleaded  "nothing  venture,  nothing  have," 
but  his  father  insisted  that  this  proverb  should  be 
turned  round  and  should  read  "let  those  venture 
who  have  nothing."  Jack  felt  that  the  sharp 
grey  eyes  were  inflexible;  resistance  was  useless; 
he  dropped  the  subject  for  the  time  being. 

The  cutter's  mast  had  been  badly  injured  by 
the  shot  from  the  brig,  and  as  it  came  on  to  blow 

93 


Great  Days 

harder  nearing  the  English  coast  the  spar  had 
to  be  stayed  and  even  then  treated  tenderly.  The 
two  vessels  ran  into  Hurstpoint  just  before  noon 
on  the  following  day.  The  brig  rounded  the 
harbour  point  and  dropped  anchor  amid  cheer- 
ing from  the  villagers  who  had  assembled  on  the 
quay.  As  the  tri-colour  fluttered  down  to  half- 
mast  high,  and  the  Union  Jack  opened  out  above 
it  the  crowd  cheered  again  and  again  lustily,  and 
swarmed  along  the  quay  to  greet  them. 

An  accident  happened  on  board  the  Dolphin 
which  threatened  to  end  badly.  As  they  ran  up 
their  Union  Jack  the  flag  halyards  caught  in  the 
mainsail  rigging,  and  Morgan  sent  Gibby  up  to 
the  crosstrees  to  clear  it.  The  moment  after 
Gibby  went  aloft  Chips,  who  was  sailing  the  ves- 
sel, told  the  helmsman  to  put  his  helm  down  and 
brought  the  cutter  into  the  wind.  At  the  same 
moment  a  heavier  gust  came.  The  cutter's  main 
mast  snapped  clean  off  where  it  had  been  injured, 
about  three  feet  from  the  deck,  and  went  over- 
board, smashing  in  the  bulwarks  and  bringing  all 
the  sails  down  with  a  run.  Everyone  was  occu- 
pied in  thinking  of  his  own  safety  and  in  getting 
out  of  the  way  of  the  falling  tackle — everyone  ex- 
cept Morgan.  To  Jack's  astonishment  his  father 
suddenly  plucked  the  lanyard  and  knife  from  one 

94 


Great  Days 

of  the  sailors,  jumped  across  the  deck  to  leeward 
and  ran  along  the  mast  in  the  water.  Everyone 
stared  at  him,  not  knowing  what  had  happened. 
When  he  got  near  the  crosstrees  he  either  threw 
himself  or  slipped  on  his  face  and  began  cutting 
the  sail  away.  The  next  moment  Gibby's  head 
popped  up  through  the  opening  with  such  a  comic 
expression  of  fear  on  it  that  Jack  could  hardly 
help  laughing.  His  father  had  already  begun 
making  his  way  back  along  the  spar  to  the  vessel. 
As  Jack  ran  to  the  lee-buhvarks  to  help  him  on 
board,  the  crew  burst  into  a  cheer,  for  they  saw 
that  it  was  the  owner's  presence  of  mind  alone 
that  had  saved  Gibby's  life:  half  a  minute  later 
and  he  would  have  been  suffocated  under  the  sail. 

By  this  time  twenty  fishermen  had  seen  that 
the  Dolphin  was  disabled,  and  three  or  four  boats 
were  soon  engaged  in  towing  the  dismasted  smack 
to  her  moorings.  Jack  and  his  father,  Gosport, 
Riding  and  Chips  were  fairly  carried  by  the  cheer- 
ing crowd  of  fishermen  and  village  folk  to  the  Inn. 

At  the  Inn  they  were  met  by  Sir  George  Barron 
and  a  crowd  of  gentry  who  all  insisted  on  shaking 
hands  and  congratulating  Morgan  and  Jack.  Sir 
George  took  Jack  over  to  the  carriage  and  pre- 
sented him  to  Lady  Barron  and  her  daughter: 
Jack  had  a  vision  of  a  large,  placid  woman,  who 

95 


Great  Days 

spoke  kindly  to  him,  and  a  round-faced  girl  of 
ten  or  twelve  years  of  age,  with  brown  hair  and 
sharp  blue  eyes. 

The  whole  afternoon  and  evening  passed  in 
cheering  and  carousing.  The  Inn  was  thronged 
till  midnight,  but  long  before  that  every  sailor 
who  would  drink  had  been  made  drunk.  Captain 
Nugent  and  Lieutenant  Myring,  even  young  Bar- 
ron and  young  Crosby  were  intent  on  treating 
everything  in  the  shape  of  a  sailor  who  had  been 
out  on  the  expedition,  and  the  general  joy  and 
happiness  were  almost  as  exciting  as  the  strong 
liquor.  Jack  was  very  glad  when  the  bar  was 
finally  closed. 

Next  morning  he  found  that  his  father  had 
ricked  his  back  when  saving  Gibby :  he  had  slipped 
on  the  mast  near  the  crosstrees  and  had  wrenched 
himself  rather  badly.  In  his  quiet  way  he  ad- 
mitted to  a  good  deal  of  pain.  Jack  was  alarmed 
to  see  that  his  face  was  drawn  and  pale.  Every 
one  recommended  rest,  and  his  wife  finally  car- 
ried him  off  upstairs  and  forced  him  to  lie  down 
on  the  big  sofa.  There  Jack  had  a  good  many 
talks  with  him,  but  even  when  he  got  down  and 
about  again  he  wouldn't  risk  the  brig  in  a  new 
adventure.  He  preferred  to  sell  her,  he  said, 
even  if  he  bought  a  bigger  cutter. 

96 


Great  Days 

The  whole  summer  was  wasted  in  waiting  for 
a  purchaser  who  never  came.  But  as  the  summer 
wore  away  and  Morgan  got  a  httle  stronger,  he 
began  to  reconsider  the  matter.  He  couldn't  help 
seeing  that  the  inaction  was  not  good  for  his  son. 
He  encouraged  him,  therefore,  to  take  out  the 
Dolphin  and  go  for  another  smuggling  cruise. 
Jack  took  the  full  complement  of  men :  but  it  was 
impossible  to  get  any  brandy  from  the  merchants 
in  Bordeaux,  or  even  to  get  into  touch  with  them. 
In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  cutter  was  well-known 
on  the  coast  she  was  fired  upon  by  the  forts  at 
the  mouth  of  the  river  and  Jack  discovered  that 
the  war  had  cut  off  the  best  source  of  the  trade. 

It  was  still  possible  to  do  some  business  with 
Boulogne  and  the  little  fishing  villages  in  the 
neighbourhood  like  Wimereux,  but  the  brandy 
was  not  the  brandy  of  cognac,  and  the  wine  a  poor 
thin  product,  which  was  well  christened  "petit 
bleu."  Besides,  there  were  few  French  merchant 
vessels  to  be  found  out  of  sight  of  safe  harbour. 
They  had  almost  been  chased  from  the  sea  by 
English  cruisers,  and  those  that  still  dared  the 
danger  were  usually  under  escort  and  couldn't  be 
attacked  by  the  little  cutter. 

A  couple  of  such  cruises  resulted  in  nothing  but 
in  developing  Jack's  seamanship  and  the  sailor- 


)7 


Great  Days 

like  qualities  of  the  crew.  The  smacks  weren't 
even  able  to  pay  their  way,  and  the  next  summer 
the  elder  Morgan  was  confronted  with  the  choice 
of  disbanding  a  large  number  of  skilled  seamen 
or  of  giving  Jack  his  way  about  the  brig.  At  first 
he  decided  to  discharge  the  seamen  and  reduce 
expenditure,  but  the  seamen  hung  about  the  quays, 
and  he  couldn't  but  see  that  Jack  was  at  a  loose 
end  and  up  to  no  good. 

One  day  Jack  noticed  rather  a  pretty  girl  in 
the  Inn  kitchen :  she  smiled  at  him  and  he  spoke 
to  her.  He  guessed  at  once  that  she  was  one  of 
his  mother's  many  pensioners.  He  ventured  to 
ask  her  name,  and  was  astonished  to  find  she  was 
called  Gretta  Knight,  the  sister  of  the  half-gipsy 
sailor  Knight,  but  just  as  open,  pretty  and  talk- 
ative as  he  was  hard  and  secretive.  Jack  went 
with  her  to  her  home  one  day  on  the  edge  of  the 
downs,  and  found  the  whole  family  living  in  the 
direst  poverty.  Knight  spent  all  the  money  he 
made  on  himself:  the  father  had  been  dead  some 
years  and  the  mother  was  hard  put  to  it  to  keep 
life  in  the  four  younger  children  by  washing  and 
doing  odd  jobs.  Her  daughter  Gretta  helped  her, 
but  the  demand  in  the  village  for  female  labour 
was  unimportant,  and  the  whole  family  would 
probably  have  starved  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the 

98 


Great  Days 

charity  of  the  Inn  and  The  Court.  Lady  Barron, 
Mrs.  Knight  told  Jack,  often  helped  them,  and 
so  did  his  mother.  He  got  into  the  habit  of  giv- 
ing his  spare  cash  to  Mrs.  Knight  and  paying  fre- 
quent visits  to  the  cottage.  One  day  he  accom- 
panied Gretta  as  she  was  going  to  the  village  and 
kissed  her  on  the  way.  She  was  nothing  loth,  but 
Jack  was  brought  to  himself  a  little  later  by  the 
noise  of  a  carriage:  he  caught  a  glimpse  of 
Lady  Barron  and  Margaret  Barron  as  they  rolled 
by,  the  child's  sharp  eyes  fixed  on  him  as  she 
passed. 

Of  course,  Jack  was  seen  walking  with  Gretta 
or  kissing  her,  and  soon  the  news  was  all  over 
the  village.  Knight  the  sailor,  grinned  and  paid 
no  attention  to  it,  but  Jack's  father  took  the  mat- 
ter more  seriously.  He  saw  that  the  youth  would 
have  to  be  employed,  and  as  no  purchaser  pre- 
sented himself  for  the  brig,  he  began  to  consider 
the  alternative  which  Jack  had  put  forward. 
Though  he  did  not  admit  it  even  to  himself,  his 
reluctance  to  fit  out  the  brig  came  from  the  fact 
that  he  would  be  unable  to  take  command  of  her. 
He  hated  risking  a  large  sum  of  money  without 
exercising  any  control  over  the  venture.  He  felt 
in  some  dim  way  that  his  prudence  and  his  knowl- 
edge of  men  were  important  factors  in  his  con- 

99 


Great  Days 

tinual  success.  But  during  the  next  winter  he  dis- 
cussed the  matter  more  than  once  with  Jack,  and 
finally  in  the  spring  called  him  into  the  Inn-parlor 
one  day  and  began  laying  down  the  law  to  him. 

"If  Ifit  out  the  brig  for  you,"  he  said  (Jack 
got  warm  at  the  thought),  "you  must  promise  me 
two  or  three  things.  Chips  will  have  to  be  the 
sailing  Captain,  the  master,  as  they  call  It  In  a 
man-o'-war,  and  Gosport  '11  have  to  be  fighting 
Captain,  but  Gosport's  too  eager  to  fight,  and  I 
want  you  to  promise  me  never  to  go  into  any  fight 
without  getting  Riding's  consent." 

Of  course.  Jack  promised:  he  would  have 
promised  anything  and  kept  his  promise,  too,  in 
order  to  get  on  board  the  brig  and  have  a  real 
chance. 

As  soon  as  the  brig  was  ready  for  sea,  Morgan 
himself  came  down  in  spite  of  a  little  lameness, 
which  he  began  to  think  he'd  never  lose,  and 
superintended  the  engaging  of  the  new  men.  In 
all  he  signed  on  fifty  sailors,  but  these  were  nearly 
all  fishermen  from  the  port  and  well  known  to 
him,  and  the  new  hands  soon  shook  down  with  the 
rest  of  the  crew. 

Newton  was  then  placed  in  command  of  the 
Dolphin  with  twenty  men  under  him,   and  with 

100 


Great  Days 

positive  instructions  not  to  part  company  with  the 
fVarrior,  as  the  brig  had  been  renamed. 

The  first  cruise  was  wholly  unproductive :  the 
privateers  slipped  down  the  French  coast,  across 
the  Bay,  and  back  again,  without  finding  anything. 
They  discovered,  incidentally,  that  Newton  was  a 
first-rate  captain,  and  that  the  Dolphin  could  out- 
sail the  brig  on  or  against  a  wind;  but  every 
French  vessel  they  saw,  and  they  only  saw  three 
or  four,  managed  to  scuttle  into  some  neighbour- 
ing port  before  they  could  get  on  terms  with  her. 

Finally  Jack  was  compelled  by  the  need  of  re- 
victualling  the  ship  to  return  to  Hurstpoint,  and 
he  did  so  in  a  spirit  of  utter  disappointment  and 
dejection.  To  his  astonishment  his  father  was 
well  content. 

"I'm  quite  satisfied,"  he  said,  "half  the 
big  mistakes  in  the  world  are  made  through 
overeagerness.  Don't  be  In  a  hurry,  you'll 
come  across  something  good  yet.  If  good 
luck  never  lasts,  bad  luck  never  holds 
either." 

One  evening  Riding  came  to  the  Inn  and 
wanted  to  see  Jack. 

"I  have  just  been  reading  In  a  French  book." 
he  said,  "that  most  of  the  French  East  Indiamen 
come  home  about  September  or,  at  any  rate,  be- 

101 


Great  Days 

fore  the  monsoon.  Why  shouldn't  we  go  out  at 
once  and  get  South  into  their  track?  They're  sel- 
dom heavily  armed." 

The  suggestion  seemed  to  Jack  excellent.  He 
called  in  his  father,  and  his  father,  after  a  talk 
with  Chips,  approved  of  the  proposal. 

In  another  three  days  the  brig  and  the  sloop 
were  made  ready  and  started  out  on  the  second 
cruise.  They  ran  almost  due  South  for  ten  days 
and  then  began  cruising  about.  For  a  week  or 
so  they  saw  nothing,  but  one  day  at  dawn  the 
look-out  at  the  mast  head  announced  a  fleet  com- 
ing up  with  the  southwest  trade :  on  the  JVarrior 
they  soon  made  out  a  number  of  Indiamen  under 
convoy  of  four  French  men-o'-war  and  six  frig- 
ates. They  hoisted  French  colours  and  stood 
away,  but  were  pursued  by  one  of  the  frigates.  As 
luck  would  have  it  they  lost  the  frigate  in  the 
night,  and  after  tacking  to  windward  for  two  or 
three  hours  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure  they 
hove  to  till  morning. 

Before  dawn  Jack  was  awakened  and  hurried 
up  on  deck  to  make  out  a  full  rigged  ship  hull 
down  on  the  horizon.  No  one  knew  what  the 
ship  was,  but  before  the  day  had  broken  com- 
pletely Chips  and  Riding  had  come  to  the  con- 
clusion  that  it  was  one   of  the  East   Indiamen, 

102 


Great  Days 

which  for  some  reason  or  other  had  been  left  be- 
hind by  the  main  fleet,  and  was  making  her  way 
unprotected  to  the  nearest  French  port.  Chips 
advised  immediate  attack  and  Riding,  too;  but 
strange  to  say  Gosport  was  against  them. 

"These  heavy  guns,"  he  said,  "are  heard  a  long 
way  off,  and  we  might  have  a  frigate  down  on  us 
just  when  we  had  got  the  Indiaman.  Let  us  stop 
her  first  and  see  if  we  can't  separate  her  a  little 
from  her  protectors." 

So  they  contented  themselves  with  heading  the 
Indiaman  off  and  throwing  a  shot  across  her  bow. 
She  immediately  went  about  and  the  brig  fol- 
lowed;  careful  not  to  overtake  her. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  Gosport  admitted  that 
the  distance  between  the  fleet  and  the  Indiaman 
was  great  enough,  and  they  immediately  crowded 
on  all  sail  to  overhaul  the  prey.  At  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  they  beat  to  quarters  and  got 
everything  ready  for  the  fight:  the  big  ship  was 
about  half  a  mile  away  to  leeward  when  Gosport 
and  Eldridge  fired  the  big  sixty-eight  pounder  at 
her.  She  replied  with  broadside  guns  which 
seemed  to  be  twelve  and  eighteen  pound  carron- 
ades  and  did  no  damage.  The  brig's  guns  were 
all  directed  at  the  Indiaman's  rigging  and  masts, 
and  in  a  short  time  the  jaw  of  the  spanker  boom 

103 


Great  Days 

was  shot  away,  which  brought  the  sail  and  spars 
in  heaped  confusion  to  the  deck.  The  big  ship 
was  now  practically  at  the  mercy  of  the  brig  as  a 
whale  would  be  at  the  mercy  of  a  swordfish. 
Again  and  again  the  big  gun  and  the  thirty-two 
pounders,  too,  raked  her  decks.  In  half  an  hour 
she  struck  her  flag,  and  Jack  and  Riding  went  on 
board  to  take  possession.  They  found  their  first 
supposition  correct:  she  was  from  Pondicherry, 
carried  a  hundred  men,  with  an  equipment  of  six 
eighteen-pound  carronades  and  six  twelve-pound- 
ers, and  thought  herself  almost  above  capture  by 
anything  smaller  than  a  frigate :  over-confidence 
had  brought  them  to  grief,  though  they  had  lost 
only  half  a  dozen  men.  ' 

As  usual  Jack  divided  the  crew:  he  took  Rid- 
ing and  Chips  with  him  on  board  the  Indiaman 
and  about  thirty  men,  and  sent  half  the  India- 
man's  crew  on  board  the  brig  as  prisoners.  After 
repairing  the  damage  the  three  vessels  set  sail  in 
company  northward. 

Jack  and  Riding  had  not  gone  through  the 
cargo,  but  they  soon  discovered  enough  to  be  sure 
that  their  prize  was  a  very  rich  one,  and  they  re- 
solved to  keep  well  out  of  the  way  of  vessels,  far 
to  the  west  of  the  track,  indeed,  in  the  open  ocean 
in  order  to  avoid  any  chance  of  recapture.     In  a 

104 


Great  Days 

fortnight  Jack  brought  his  prize  into  Hurstpoint 
harbour  almost  without  difficulty.  He  anticipated 
a  great  reception,  and  he  got  it.  But  he  soon 
realized  that  his  success  had  been  too  great  and 
too  rapid  for  his  friends'  affection:  in  reality  he 
was  the  object  rather  of  envy  than  of  admiration. 
True,  everyone  met  him  with  mouth-praise  and 
congratulations,  but  Jack  saw  plainly  enough  that 
it  was  lip-service,  for  the  most  part,  and  that  not 
only  his  acquaintances  but  the  gentry  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood envied  him  his  good  luck.  For  a  day 
or  two  he  was  too  excited  to  pay  much  attention 
to  what  others  thought  or  felt;  it  was  his  sister 
who  first  convinced  him  that  his  good  fortune  had 
cost  him  the  good-will  of  his  fellows.  He  met  her 
one  day  walking  with  young  Barron,  and  taking 
his  own  experience  with  Gretta  Knight  as  a  guide, 
he  tried  to  warn  her. 

"Young  Barron  was  always  flighty  at  school," 
he  said,  "and  underneath  his  pleasant  manners 
he's  mad  with  family  pride." 

His  sister  looked  at  him:  "It's  true,  then,"  she 
said  quietly. 

"What's  true?"  asked  Jack.  "What  do  you 
mean?" 

"What  everyone's  saying,"  she  retorted,  "that 
your  head's  turned  with  conceit.     You  think  be- 

105 


Great  Days 

cause  Gosport  took  the  French  ship  that  you're  a 
great  person:  but  you  had  no  more  to  do  with  it 
than  I  had,  and  that's  not  much." 

Jack  was  flabbergasted  by  the  attack.  Instead 
of  saying  to  himself  that  his  sister  was  angry  be- 
cause his  warning  confirmed  her  own  secret  and 
painful  doubts,  and  kissing  her  into  good  humour 
he  just  felt  puzzled;  but  his  good  sense  helped 
him  a  little.  ' 

"I  only  told  you  what  I  think,  for  your  own 
good,"  he  remarked,  "a  man  knows  things  about 
another  man  that  a  girl  doesn't  know." 

"It's  a  pity  Gretta  Knight  didn't  teach  you  to 
mind  your  own  business,"  she  replied  angrily. 

Jack  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  went  his  way, 
but  on  reflection  he  realized  that  his  sister's  opin- 
ion, unpleasant  as  it  was,  was  probably  the  opinion 
of  the  neighbourhood. 

They  found  the  Indiaman  was  filled  to  the 
hatches  with  rich  Indian  goods,  and  Jack's  father 
determined  to  go  to  London  by  coach  to  find  out 
how  best  to  sell  them.  Meanwhile  Jack  and  Rid- 
ing were  to  bring  the  big  ship  quietly  up  the 
Thames. 

It  was  Jack's  first  visit  to  London.  But  he  was 
not  overwhelmed  or  dazzled  by  the  novel  sights 
and  sounds  of  the  great  city.     His  only  standard 

106 


Great  Days 

of  measure  was  Bordeaux,  but  Bordeaux,  when 
he  knew  it,  was  boiling,  so  to  speak,  and  though 
London  was  twenty  times  as  big,  it  was  far 
quieter,  far  more  commonplace  than  Bordeaux, 
dirtier,  too,  and  more  sordid.  True  there  was 
energy  of  a  physical  sort  on  the  quay-side:  hard 
work  and  long  hours,  a  rude  zest  of  living,  too, 
in  roaring  gin  shops  and  public  houses,  such  as  he 
had  never  seen  In  France:  but  that  side  of  life 
rather  repelled  him.  The  seamen  all  hung  about 
the  docks  and  low  drinking  dens :  Riding  even 
never  wandered  far  from  the  river,  but  Jack  was 
filled  with  Insatiable  curiosity,  and  was  eager  to 
see  all  there  was  to  be  seen  and  draw  his  own 
conclusions  without  interruption.  He  made  ex- 
cursions by  himself,  and  the  river  scenes  soon 
failed  to  satisfy  him. 

The  city  itself  and  the  business  part  seemed 
dull  and  grimy;  but  the  west-end  drew  him  again 
and  again.  The  pride  and  comfort  of  the  aris- 
tocratic quarters,  the  life  of  luxury  and  fashion; 
the  show  and  elegance  of  it  all  appealed  to  him 
now  as  irresistibly  as  young  Barron's  courtesies 
and  high  manner  had  appealed  to  him  years  be- 
fore. 

He  was  curious  of  dress  and  custom.  The  very 
rich  people  about  the  Court,  he  noticed,  had  all 

107 


Great  Days 

discarded  the  voluminous  garments  which  still  ob- 
tained in  the  country.  The  exquisites  in  St. 
James's  set  him  staring;  the  men  no  longer  wore 
powder  in  their  hair,  they  were  dressed  in  tights 
with  little  bows  above  the  ankles.  Their  huge 
cravats  and  zebra  vests  made  all  of  a  piece  and 
fitting  like  an  eelskin  impressed  him  in  spite  of 
himself.  Their  canes,  too,  and  broad  brimmed 
hats,  and,  above  all,  their  assured  carriage,  made 
him  ashamed  of  his  rough  seaman's  clothes. 

The  fashionable  women  turned  his  envy  to  ad- 
miration; they  were  even  more  curiously  attired 
than  the  men:  they  wore  turbans  of  muslin 
wrapped  round  the  head,  with  two  or  three  enor- 
mous feathers,  which  seemed  to  add  to  their 
height  and  slimness.  The  headdress  was  often 
built  up  with  straw,  but  this  did  not  lessen  the 
effect  in  Jack's  eyes :  their  breasts  were  bare  and 
were  allowed  to  protrude  naked  from  the  dress, 
which  was  usually  very  loose  and  very  light,  with 
only  thin  petticoats  underneath:  he  could  see  their 
legs  quite  plainly.  Many  beauties  even  moistened 
their  dresses  in  order  to  make  them  cling  and 
show  off  their  forms.  The  boldness  of  the  fash- 
ion, the  appeal  of  it  set  Jack's  senses  rioting:  the 
best  class,  he  saw,  was  far  more  natural,  more 
frankly  sensual,  than  the  middle-class.     In  young 

108 


Great  Days 

and  pretty  women  and  girls  the  fashion  seemed 
admirable  to  him;  when  the  wearers  were  old 
and  ugly,  he  thought  it  hideous. 

He  was  hugely  amused  by  a  verse  he  saw  in  a 
shop  window  under  the  caricature  of  a  lady  who 
had  lost  her  waist  through  refusing  to  eat: 

"Folly  and  fashion  do  prevail 

To  such  extremes  among  the  fair, 
A  woman's  only  top  and  tail. 

The  body's  banish'd :    God  knows  where !" 

But  none  of  the  fashionable  ladies  or  gentlemen 
ever  cast  more  than  a  contemptuous  glance  at  the 
rough  sailor,  and  a  little  piqued  perhaps,  by  their 
indifference,  Jack  noticed  that  the  best  of  them 
were  less  polite  in  London  than  in  Bordeaux;  even 
in  St.  James's  the  gentlemen  took  the  wall  of  the 
ladies  continually,  which  was  never  seen  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Channel.  On  the  whole,  Jack's 
English  pride  was  rather  starved  than  strength- 
ened by  his  first  visit  to  London,  though  the 
wealth  shown  in  fine  carriages  and  shops,  and  the 
beautiful  women  in  the  parks,  impressed  him  in 
spite  of  himself. 

It  was  near  Charing  Cross  that  he  saw  in  a 
bookseller's  window  the  first  mention  of  a  name 
which  was  afterwards  to  become  familiar  to  him 

109 


Great  Days 

and  to  the  world — the  name  of  Buonaparte :  un- 
der a  picture  of  a  guillotuie  "the  conqueror  of 
Italy"  was  represented  in  the  guise  of  Pompey, 
setting  out  to  destroy  the  nest  of  English  pirates: 
the  print  made  the  youth  flush  with  anger. 

A  couple  of  days  later  his  father  explained  that 
he  had  sold  the  cargo  of  the  ship  for  thirty  thou- 
sand pounds,  and  that  he  thought  he  could  get 
twenty  more  for  the  ship  itself. 

"But  you'll  fit  her  out  as  a  privateer,  won't 
you?"  cried  Jack. 

His  father  stared  at  him,  and  then  laughed 
shortly. 

"I'm  not  quite  mad,  if  you  are;  we've  had  rare 
good  luck,  and  not  to  be  content  with  it  would 
show  we  were  fools.  We've  made  as  much  in 
three  years  of  war  as  I  have  made  in  thirty  years 
of  work,  and  I  won't  risk  it  for  anybody.  What  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  was  this :  I  propose  to  divide 
the  money  equally  between  us  and  put  your  share 
aside  for  you.  You  will  be  twenty-one  next  year 
and  I  think  you  deserve  it,  and  it  will  steady  you 
to  have  it.  But  I  want  you  to  promise  me  you 
will  only  spend  the  interest  of  it. 

"Aren't  you  going  to  give  anything  to  Gosport, 
Riding  and  the  rest?"  asked  Jack. 

"Why  should  we?"   asked  his   father.     "We 

110 


Great  Days 

didn't  promise  them  anything,  besides  I  want  to 
put  away  the  round  sum  of  twenty-five  thousand 
pounds  for  each  of  us.  With  that  you'll  be  the 
equal  of  any  one  in  the  village :  you  may  have 
another  successful  cruise  in  the  brig;  but  in  any 
case  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  sets  you  above 
want  and  care,  makes  a  gentleman  of  you,  and 
that's  good  enough  for  a  youth  of  twenty-one.  I 
intend  to  invest  the  money  in  the  Funds :  at  the 
present  price  I'm  told  it'll  bring  in  just  seven  per 
cent.,  and  with  five  pounds  a  day  coming  in  you 
can  ruffle  it  with  the  best.  You  know  French,  too, 
and  I  don't  see  why  you  shouldn't  marry  some 
lady  and  be  as  good  as  the  Barrens  or  anyone 
else." 

"The  Barrens?"  cried  Jack  in  utter  astonish- 
ment. 

"Yes,  the  Barrons,"  said  his  father,  looking  at 
him  out  of  cunning  grey  eyes,  "I  have  lent  a  good 
bit  of  money  in  mortgage  on  The  Court  and  may 
lend  more.  You  do  as  I  tell  you  and  we'll  see 
strange  things  yet." 

A  few  days  afterwards  his  father  came  down 
rubbing  his  hands.  He  had  sold  the  ship  for 
twenty-six  thousand  pounds  without  including  the 
plate.  Again  Jack  pressed  him  to  give  the  six 
thousand,  at  any  rate,  which  he  hadn't  expected 

111 


Great  Days 

to  the  officers  and  crew:  but  his  father  shook  him 
off  roughly,  said  he  was  silly.  At  length  Jack  «*e- 
torted: 

"Let  me  give  my  share  of  It." 

Ultimately  his  father  consented  to  give  five 
hundred  pounds  each  to  Riding,  Gosport  and 
Chips,  and  twenty-five  pounds  apiece  to  the  crew. 
The  men  cheered  at  the  news,  and  the  of- 
ficers appeared  to  be  very  grateful.  But 
Jack  had  no  difficulty  in  seeing  that  Riding 
was  the  only  person  who  really  appreciated  the 
liberality: 

"The  suggestion  didn't  come  from  the  old 
man,"  he  said  to  Jack,  "but  from  you,  eh?  The 
richer  a  man  gets  the  meaner  he  gets  as  a  rule, 
and  your  father,  with  all  his  good  qualities,  has 
never  liked  parting.  Those  who  have  a  hard  time 
in  youth  seldom  do,"  he  went  on.  "Before  your 
father  married  the  Irishman's  daughter  and  got 
the  Robin  Hood  he  had  had  a  very  hard  time  for 
many  a  year,  and  it  has  left  its  mark  on  him." 

And  then,  afraid  of  hurting  the  youth,  he 
added:  "Most  rich  men  are  like  Admiral  Jervis; 
I  saw  a  caricature  of  him  the  other  day  called 
'The  Lion's  Share' :  there  was  all  the  prize 
money  on  the  table  and  Jervis  was  saying:  'The 
first  share's  mine  because  I  caught  the  prey,  the 

112 


Great  Days 

second  falls  to  me  because  I'm  the  King  of  Beasts, 

and  if  anyone  presumes  to  touch  the  third !  !" 

and  he  roared  with  amusement. 

"Was  it  mother  who  owned  the  Inn?"  cried 
Jack;  "was  that  the  way  father  got  his  start?" 

"I  thought  you  knew,"  said  Riding,  "or  I 
wouldn't  have  said  anything," 

"Tell  me  more,"  insisted  Jack,  extremely  curi- 
ous to  get  this  glimpse  of  his  father  as  seen 
through  another's  eyes. 

"He  was  a  sailor,"  said  Riding,  "who  had  come 
round  to  Hurstpoint  in  a  coaster  from  Wales, 
from  Haverford  West,  I  believe.  He  and  the 
innkeeper's  daughter  fell  in  love  with  each  other, 
I  was  told,  and  that's  how  he  got  the  Robin 
Hood.  But  it  wasn't  the  place  then  it  is  now,"  he 
went  on.  "Give  him  his  due;  he's  done  a  great 
deal  for  it,  and  instead  of  taking  it  easy  as  he  got 
richer,  he  worked  harder.  The  old  man's  very 
clever.  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  how  he's  going  to 
invest  his  money,  because  I'd  like  to  invest  mine 
in  the  same  way." 

"He's  putting  all  his  and  mine  in  the  Funds," 
said  Jack,  "and  I'm  going  to-morrow  or  the  next 
day  to  the  Bank  of  England,"  he  added  a  little 
vaingloriously,    "to   inscribe  my   name.      Father 

113 


Great  Days 

says  that  at  the  present  price  It'll  bring  in  more 
than  seven  per  cent." 

"Ho!  Ho!"  Riding  laughed,  "that's  better 
than  I  thought.  I'll  tell  Chips  and  Gosport,  too, 
and  we'll  all  do  the  same  thing.  Thirty-five 
pounds  a  year  for  life  is  fourteen  shillings  a  week, 
and  that's  double  what  the  farm  labourers  have 
to  live  on,  and  double  what  the  ordinary  sailor 
gets.  A  man  who  can't  live  comfortably  on  four- 
teen shillings  a  week's  a  fool." 

To  his  astonishment  Jack  saw  that  what  they 
regarded  as  an  assured  competence  altered  their 
manners  and  had  some  effect  on  the  very  nature 
of  Gosport  and  Chips,  and  even  on  Riding  him- 
self. It  gave  them  a  certain  confidence  that  Jack 
had  not  known  In  them  before,  and  he  began  to 
realize  for  the  first  time  that  if  five  hundred 
pounds  could  so  transform  a  man  like  Riding 
twenty-five  thousand  pounds  must  have  an  infin- 
itely greater  effect  on  his  own  position:  but  he 
had  no  means  yet  of  gauging  its  influence,  and 
youth-like  he  put  it  out  of  his  head  for  the  time. 

When  they  got  back  to  Hurstpoint  again  they 
did  nothing  much  for  the  rest  of  the  year  and 
heard  little  or  nothing  except  wild  stones  of  how 
England  was  to  be  invaded  by  French  soldiers  on 
gigantic  rafts.     As  sailors  they  paid  little  atten- 

114 


Great  Days 

tion  to  such  silly  vaporlngs :  they  knew  quite  well 
that  a  revenue  cutter  could  deal  with  a  good  many 
such  rafts,  and  they  didn't  believe  that  their  ad- 
versaries were  quite  insane.  But  the  threats  of 
invasion  were  cunningly  used  by  the  Government 
to  increase  the  war-like  spirit  of  the  people  and 
to  win  acceptance  for  Pitt's  new  taxes.  The  Eng- 
lish governing  classes  have  always  been  in  favour 
of  increasing  the  army  and  navy,  and  thus  pro- 
viding their  poorer  members  with  profitable  posts. 
Nowhere  is  patriotism  made  to  pay  so  well. 

In  the  next  summer  Jack  made  several  trips 
and  met  with  several  minor  successes.  In  bad 
weather  he  captured  two  coasters  off  Brest  which 
more  than  paid  the  expenses  of  the  year.  Encour- 
aged by  these  successes  he  resolved  on  the  last 
cruise  of  the  year  in  September  to  make  a  real  ef- 
fort. He  jogged  down  the  French  coast  from 
Dunkirk  almost  to  St.  Malo  without  seeing  any- 
thing and  then  he  was  chased  by  an  English 
seventy-four.  Jack  had  no  wish  to  be  held  up  by 
such  a  ship.  He  knew  that  he  would  not  only 
have  a  very  unpleasant  hour's  cross-questioning 
but  that  probably  thirty  or  forty  of  his  men  would 
be  "pressed"  to  serve  the  king,  and  all  he  could 
do  would  be  to  complain. 

The  English   ship   had  come   from   windward 

115 


Great  Days 

bringing  with  her  a  strong  westerly  breeze,  and 
Jack  saw  at  once  that  the  two  vessels  would  have 
to  separate  in  order  to  stand  a  chance  of  escape. 
Unluckily  for  him  as  it  turned  out  Chips  had 
gone  on  board  the  little  Dolphin  to  explain  to 
Newton  a  series  of  night  signals  which  had  been 
agreed  on. 

The  Warrior  now  signalled  the  cutter  to  escape 
as  best  she  could  and  get  back  home,  and  as  the 
cutter  bore  up  one  way  the  brig  started  off  on  the 
other  tack  and  attempted  to  get  to  windward  of 
the  big  ship.  But  as  luck  would  have  it  the 
cutter  took  the  easier  way  and  the  British  battle- 
ship was  enabled  by  her  superior  position  to  edge 
away  and  so  almost  make  up  for  the  superior 
sailing  qualities  of  the  brig. 

The  chase  went  on  the  whole  morning  and  it 
wasn't  till  late  on  a  windy  afternoon  that  Jack 
was  able  to  weather  his  stubborn  countryman. 
Gosport  had  been  anxious  all  the  afternoon  to 
have  a  shot  at  her  with  the  sixty-eight  pounder, 
declaring  that  it  would  be  quite  easy  to  bring 
some  of  her  spars  down  and  give  her  a  lesson. 
Neither  Jack  nor  Riding  would  hear  of  this: 
they  were  quite  content  to  shake  off  their  pursuer. 
The  worst  of  it  was  that  when  the  man-o'-war 
left  off  chasing  them  and  took  her  way  to  the 

116 


Great  Days 

norVard  she  had  driven  the  brig  far  down  the 
coast  to  the  very  centre  of  the  French  naval  power. 
To  get  out  of  danger  Jack  had  to  beat  to  wind- 
ward in  the  teeth  of  a  strong  breeze,  and  that 
took  some  time  and  involved  a  good  deal  of  hard 
unpleasant  work.  Still  Jack  did  what  he  thought 
wise  and  the  whole  night  was  spent  in  beating 
to  windward  in  order  to  gain  a  decent  offing. 

Day  dawned  on  a  wild  scene  with  scurrying 
grey  clouds  chasing  each  other  to  the  East.  The 
sea  was  running  high  and  the  wind  blew  with 
such  force  that  it  cut  off  the  crests  of  the  waves 
and  the  spindrift  drenched  everyone.  The  brig 
was  under  light  canvas,  the  plain  sails  even  being 
reefed.  Suddenly  the  lookout  hailed  the  deck 
with  the  news  that  a  three-master  could  be  seen 
right  in  the  wind's  eye:  "all  hands  and  idlers" 
were  immediately  ordered  on  deck  and  the  little 
brig  proceeded  to  set  more  canvas. 

In  an  hour  they  made  out  that  the  newcomer 
was  a  French  frigate  and  one  of  the  fastest  of 
her  class,  for  in  an  hour  more  they  could  see 
part  of  her  line  of  ports.  There  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  run  without  appearing  to  run,  and 
so  Jack  kept  the  brig  away  and  let  her  go  free. 
But  the  Frenchman  had  caught  sight  of  them  and 
wanted  a  closer  acquaintance,  so  he  altered  his 

117 


Great  Days 

course  too  and  shook  out  his  royals,  and  as  the 
devil  would  have  It  at  the  critical  moment  the 
wind  veered  a  couple  of  points  and  gave  a  further 
advantage  in  the  game  to  the  big  ship  that  now 
ran  up  the  tricolour  and  signalled  to  the  Warrior 
to  heave  to.  Nothing  was  further  from  Jack's 
mind.  He  crowded  on  every  rag  of  canvas  the 
brig  would  stand  and  did  his  best  to  get  away. 
But  the  wind  freshened  continually  and  running 
free  with  nearly  a  gale  of  wind  under  her  stern 
the  brig  was  not  as  fast  as  the  larger  vessel.  The 
whole  day  too  was  before  them  and  Jack  knew 
that  the  French  coast  couldn't  be  more  than 
thirty-five  or  forty  miles  away;  that  English 
man-o'-war  had  put  them  in  a  trap. 

Things  began  to  look  awkward  and  Riding 
could  only  suggest  more  sail.  Gosport  Insisted 
that  they  should  let  him  use  the  big  gun  as  soon 
as  he  had  a  chance,  and  as  the  French  man-o'-war 
was  steadily  coming  closer  Jack  consented.  Up 
to  this  time  he  had  hoped  that  the  frigate  might 
think  them  too  insignificant  to  pursue  with  much 
obstinacy. 

The  contest  now  became  Interesting.  The  first 
shot  with  the  sixty-eight  fell  a  little  short,  but 
it  evidently  provoked  the  Frenchman,  for  he  put 
his  helm  down  and  as  his  ship  yawed  he  let  fly 

118 


Great  Days 

his  whole  broadside.  None  of  his  guns,  however, 
carried  as  far  as  Jack's  and  the  shots  all  fell 
harmlessly  into  the  sea  while  the  manoeuvre 
nearly  doubled  the  distance  between  the  ships. 

Towards  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  how- 
ever, the  Frenchman  had  crawled  up  to  them 
again,  and  again  and  again  Gosport  fired  the 
sixty-eight  but  for  some  time  without  result. 
When  the  French  ship  had  got  within  a  third 
of  a  mile,  however,  one  of  Gosport's  shots  did  a 
good  deal  of  damage,  for  it  shot  away  the  fore- 
topmast  of  the  pursuer;  brought  down  the  sails 
in  a  wreck  and  diminished  the  Frenchman's  speed. 
In  anger  as  it  appeared  he  again  put  his  helm 
down  and  let  fly  a  whole  broadside.  As  bad  luck 
would  have  it  one  of  the  shots  killed  two  or  three 
of  the  Warrior's  men  and  another  struck  the 
to'gallant  mast  and  brought  the  spar  down  on  the 
deck  with  a  run.  Before  an  order  could  be  given, 
the  men  had  sprung  aloft  to  cut  away  the  wreck, 
but  by  the  time  they  got  it  all  clear  and  the  brig 
moving  properly  she  had  hardly  regained  her 
former  distance  from  the  French  ship.  Jack  be- 
gan to  long  for  darkness,  but  unluckily  there  were 
still  two  or  three  hours  of  daylight.  Once  again 
the  French  ship  favoured  by  the  weather  gage 
began  to  draw  up  foot  by  foot  and  when  only  a 

119 


Great  Days 

quarter  of  a  mile  away  she  put  her  helm  down 
and  gave  them  another  broadside  aimed  wholly 
at  the  rigging. 

Luckily  for  them  the  shots  did  no  particular 
damage  and  as  the  Frenchman  lost  nearly  half  a 
mile  by  the  manoeuvre  Jack  began  to  hope  that 
the  worst  was  passed,  when  suddenly  the  watch 
on  the  fo'castle  sang  out  that  there  was  a  sail  on 
the  lee-bow.  The  glasses  showed  that  it  was  a 
French  man-o'-war  probably  called  out  of  Cher- 
bourg by  the  firing,  for  almost  as  soon  as  she 
was  sighted  their  big  pursuer  fired  a  gun  to  at- 
tract her  attention  and  then  began  to  signal  to 
her.  Jack  immediately  called  Gosport  and  Riding 
to  council. 

"What  are  v/e  to  do?"  he  asked. 

Neither  of  them  could  make  any  suggestion. 

The  land  now  was  plainly  visible  a  few  miles  to 
leeward.  The  uncomfortable  fear  that  they 
might  be  captured  presented  itself  to  Jack;  but  he 
could  not  realise  it;  he  would  go  on  struggling  to 
the  end,  he  resolved.  Of  a  sudden  he  saw  that 
there  was  no  possibility  of  escape  by  holding  on; 
but  just  a  bare  chance  if  he  went  about  and  tacked 
to  windward,  daring  meanwhile  the  worst  that 
the  French  frigate  could  do. 

120 


Great  Days 

Hurriedly  he  put  his  plan  before  Gosport  and 
Riding. 

"She'll  sink  us,"  cried  Riding. 

"We'll  be  lucky,  if  she  doesn't  kill  half  of  us," 
said  Gosport. 

"There  is  nothing  else  to  be  done,"  cried  Jack. 
"Propose  anything;  I'm  ready  to  try  whatever  you 
like;  but  in  another  half  an  hour  we'll  be  ashore. 
We're  lost  already  if  we  go  on;  this  gives  us 
a  bare  chance."  Seeing  that  they  hesitated,  he 
cried:  "Ready  about,  put  the  helm  down,"  and 
in  a  moment  the  brig  lurched  up  into  the  wind. 
The  daring  brought  its  own  reward.  Not  under- 
standing what  the  brig  was  up  to  and  his  guns 
being  charged  the  French  Captain  gave  orders 
to  fire.  The  brig  being  head  on  offered  a  smaller 
mark  and  only  a  couple  of  the  shots  did  any 
damage  at  all.  Close  hauled  with  the  sails  as 
flat  as  a  board  the  brig  drove  towards  the  enemy; 
it  looked  as  if  the  manoeuvre  were  about  to  suc- 
ceed, for  once  past  the  frigate  it  was  odds  that 
the  brig  close  hauled  was  a  better  sailor  than  the 
larger  vessel.  Just  as  they  came  opposite  the 
frigate  Gosport  seized  the  opportunity  of  firing 
every  gun  he  could  into  her.  The  French  captain, 
completely  astonished  at  what  had  happened,  did 

121 


Great  Days 

the  worst  thing  he  could  do;  he  was  preparing 
to  go  about  and  still  follow  the  brig  while  keeping 
the  weather  gage;  but  the  attack  was  so  sudden 
and  the  damage  done  so  great,  for  the  sixty-eight 
pounder  killed  half  a  dozen  men  and  swept  the 
deck,  that  he  let  the  frigate  fall  off  again  and 
gave  the  brig  as  she  passed  his  whole  broadside. 
But  luck  happened  to  be  with  him;  one  of  his 
shots  brought  down  a  block  which  caught  Jack 
on  the  head  and  shoulders  and  relieved  him  for 
the  time  being  of  any  anxiety  as  to  the  future. 
Worse  still  a  couple  of  the  shots  caught  the  brig's 
foremast  and  carried  it  away  while  three  or  four 
more  plunged  right  through  her.  Her  flag  was 
still  defiantly  flying  at  the  mainmast-head,  and  so 
the  Frenchman  loaded  as  quickly  as  possible  and 
when  within  a  hundred  yards  gave  her  another 
broadside.  Then  too  late  the  IFarrior's  men 
thought  of  the  flag,  but  before  they  could  pull  it 
down  it  was  plain  that  the  little  brig  was  sinking. 
The  French  Captain  saw  that  too  and  sent  his 
boats  to  take  the  crew  off.  They  had  diflficulty 
enough  in  saving  the  men,  for  it  was  already  dark 
and  the  brig  with  her  deck  awash  looked  as  if 
she  might  founder  at  any  moment.  They  brought 
most  of  the  crew  away,  however,  and  showed  a 

122 


Great  Days 

good  deal  of  kindness  to  Jack,  who  was  carried 
on  board  the  French  frigate  insensible  by  Val 
Joyce  and  Weetman. 

A  little  later  only  the  masts  of  the  brig  stuck 
out  above  the  water;  a  few  minutes  later  still  and 
they  had  disappeared. 


12$ 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  was  many  weeks  before  Jack  heard  what 
happened  after  his  fall;  the  heavy  block 
had  fractured  his  skull  and,  the  subsequent  moving 
and  inadequate  attendance  bringing  on  a  sort  of 
brain  fever,  he  lay  for  weeks  in  almost  complete 
unconsciousness. 

When  the  Warriors  found  themselves  penned 
together  in  the  forehold  of  the  Liberie,  as  the 
frigate  was  called,  they  could  only  count  forty- 
five  men  saved  of  eighty-one,  and  of  the  officers 
Riding  was  missing.  But  sailors  bear  mishaps 
like  gamblers  who  live  by  the  freaks  of  fortune, 
and  as  they  were  given  blankets  and  food  and 
the  wounded  attended  to  by  the  doctor  they  soon 
consoled  themselves  with  the  reflection  that  they 
might  have  been  worse  off.  They  knew  that  the 
frigate  anchored  in  the  early  morning  in  calm 
water,  and  by  that  sort  of  second  sense  which 
sailors  possess  they  felt  pretty  sure  that  they 
had  run  into  Cherbourg  through  the  Eastern 
Channel  and  were  now  ensconced  under  the  lee 

124- 


Great  Days 

of  the  breakwater.  They  were  brought  up  on 
deck  next  day  for  exercise  and  fresh  air,  and 
Gosport,  who  knew  the  place,  told  them  that  the 
island  to  the  west  was  called  He  Pelee,  and  pointed 
out  the  forts  not  only  on  the  islands  in  the  harbour 
but  on  the  heights  surrounding  the  town.  As 
soon  as  the  French  officers  found  out  that  he 
knew  a  little  French  they  began  asking  him  ques- 
tions, and  in  the  hope  of  being  kept  less  strictly 
he  declared  that  Jack  was  the  Captain  and  owner's 
son  and  gave  himself  out  as  merely  the  sailing 
master.  He  told  the  Frenchmen  too  that  their 
cruise  had  been  fruitless  and  ascribed  their  un- 
fortunate position  to  the  pursuit  of  the  English 
battleship.  At  first  he  couldn't  make  them  under- 
stand why  an  English  privateer  should  avoid 
an  English  man-o'-war,  and  when  he  explained 
to  them  roughly  the  system  of  pressgangs  they 
broke  into  exclamations  of  astonishment,  and 
went  away  evidently  impressed  with  the  idea  that 
only  savages  or  madmen  would  try  to  make  men 
fight  against  their  will.  They  asked  Gosport 
whether  he  would  have  fought  if  he  had  been 
pressed  in  that  way  and  he  confounded  them  with 
the  reply  that  he  supposed  he  would;  it  was  "all 
in  the  day's  work."  None  of  them  seemed  able 
to  credit  the  fact  that  pressed  men  would  fight 

125 


Great  Days 

as  bravely  as  those  who  go  into  battle  of  their 
own  free  will  and  animated  by  patriotic  ardour. 

In  forty-eight  hours  the  necessary  formalities 
were  fulfilled  and  Gosport  and  Jack  and  their 
companions  were  taken  on  shore  and  lodged  in 
the  prison.  Jack  from  the  beginning  was  treated 
better  than  the  rest;  he  was  received  into  the 
Governor's  own  house  and  his  wound  was  dressed 
at  once  by  the  prison  doctor. 

When  he  first  came  to  himself  he  felt  astonish- 
ingly languid  but  clear-headed  and  very  curious. 
The  first  glance  showed  him  he  was  in  prison; 
there  were  bars  on  the  small  square  window  set 
high  up  in  the  wall,  a  window  which  framed  a 
patch  of  blue  sky  the  colour  of  a  pigeon's  egg 
but  bright  as  if  newly  washed.  The  walls  were 
a  gravy  brown;  the  door  opposite  his  feet  could 
be  only  a  prison  door,  he  thought;  it  looked 
so  dark  and  massive;  there  was  a  stool  in  the  cell, 
a  little  table  at  the  head  of  his  bed;  and  a  washing- 
stand  in  the  corner  with  a  mere  bowl  on  it  which 
Jack  couldn't  believe  was  meant  for  a  basin.  But 
the  bed  was  comfortable ;  the  linen  though  coarse 
spotlessly  clean;  he  stretched  his  toes  out  against 
its  coolness  with  pleasure.  He  was  puzzled  by 
what  seemed  to  him  the  great  weight  of  the  bed- 
clothes; it  was  a  real  effort  to  lift  his  feet  and 

126 


Great  Days 

yet  he  wasn't  too  warm ;  it  was  surprising.  When 
he  tried  to  turn  to  look  at  the  wall  behind  him 
he  found  the  explanation  of  the  mystery;  it  took 
a  prodigious  effort  even  to  turn  in  the  bed,  an  ef- 
fort that  left  him  breathless.  He  must  be  very 
weak,  he  decided.  Suddenly  he  caught  a  glimpse 
of  his  left  hand;  he  was  astounded  it  was  so 
thin  and  pale,  and  he  felt  it  an  effort  to  hold  it 
up;  he  was  relieved  to  lay  it  out  flat  on  the  bed 
so  as  to  rest  all  of  it  down  to  the  very  finger- 
tips. 

What  had  made  him  so  weak?  he  mused  to 
himself,  and  musing  slept.   .   .   . 

When  he  came  to  himself  two  men  were  in  the 
cell,  one  arranging  some  soup  for  him  on  the  little 
table,  the  other  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand  direct- 
ing. The  man  with  the  lantern  was  in  officer's 
uniform,  he  said: 

"Lift  him  up  and  feed  him." 

The  odour  of  the  cabbage  soup  had  already 
spread  through  the  room  and  brought  the  water 
to  Jack's  mouth;  he  felt  very  hungry.  When  he 
was  lifted  up  and  given  the  first  mouthful  he  said 
"merci  Monsieur"  with  a  smile. 

"Oh,  you  speak  French,"  cried  the  officer  to 
him.  "That's  good.  Now  you've  come  to  your- 
self, you'll  soon  get  well." 

127 


Great  Days 

Jack  was  astonished  by  his  harsh  pecuHar 
accent  and  quick  abrupt  ways.  He  noticed  that 
the  officer  was  a  small  man,  slight  and  very  dark, 
with  a  skin  like  mahogany,  a  heavy  black  mous- 
tache, black  eyes  and  long  thin  pointed  nose — a 
nose  longer  even  than  his  father's  and  more 
prominent,  self-assertive.  But  the  face  was  very 
intelligent  and  vivacious  with  a  sort  of  instinct 
of  rough  kindness  in  it;  and  Jack  felt  kindly  too 
for  the  good  soup  seemed  to  course  all  through 
his  body  and  warmed  him  as  if  he  had  been  hollow 
all  down  his  legs. 

"I  have  been  ill  some  time,  haven't  I,  Mon- 
sieur?" he  asked  at  length. 

"You  have  been  here  over  a  fortnight;  but 
now  Doctor  Sauvan  says  you  have  turned  the 
corner — not  that  I  think  much  of  what  he  says — 
a  republican  and  revolutionary  at  this  time  of 
day !  But  by  the  way  you  suck  up  that  soup  I 
think  you'll  be  about  soon.  Take  a  drink  of  the 
wine  too;  it  has  no  body  in  it;  these  Northern 
wines  are  all  thin,  it  takes  sunshine  to  make  good 
hot  juices  in  plant  or  in  man;  but  still  it'll  do  you 
good." 

Jack  too  thought  it  did  him  good;  though  he 
would  have  preferred  more  of  the  soup.  The 
little  officer  divined  his  desire  and  asked  him  if 

128 


Great  Days 

he  would  like  some  more  soup  and  when  he  said 
*'Yes"  sent  for  it  at  once. 

"You've  had  a  bad  bash  on  the  head,"  he  con- 
tinued, "but  it's  healed  now  and  the  doctor  says 
you  mustn't  have  any  meat,  but  I'll  try  you  with 
a  little  to-morrow.  I  know  how  quickly  one  re- 
covers from  wounds ;  I  have  had  seventeen  my- 
self." 

"Seventeen?"  cried  Jack,  staring  at  him. 

"In  three  campaigns,"  he  added.  "But  I  must 
not  talk  so  much;  that  wiseacre  of  a  doctor'll  say 
I  tired  you.  Now  drink  your  soup,"  he  went  on 
as  it  came  in,  "then  have  a  sleep,  and  to-morrow 
we'll  put  something  to  chew  between  your 
grinders." 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  with  "Bon  soir, 
Monsieur,"  and  "Bon  soir.  Monsieur,"  in  reply 
Jack  was  left  to  sleep.  At  first  Jack  couldn't 
help  thinking  of  his  jailor's  courtesy  and  kind- 
ness; fancy  saying  "Bon  soir.  Monsieur"  to  a 
prisoner  and  giving  him  a  second  helping  of  soup 
and  pressing  the  wine  upon  him.  Jack  promised 
himself  to  find  out  more  about  his  extraordinary 
jailor  next  day  and  particularly  about  his  three 

campaigns  and  seventeen  wounds,  seventeen 

and  so  wondering  he  fell  asleep. 

The  Governor's  kindness  was  not  wholly  dis- 

129 


Great  Days 

interested.  Privateers'  men  were  regarded  as 
little  better  than  pirates  and  were  apt  to  be 
roughly  handled,  but  Gosport  knew  that  they 
would  all  be  better  treated  if  some  money  passed 
and  therefore  he  gave  Jack  out  for  a  person  of 
great  wealth  and  importance.  He  assured  the 
Governor  that  whatever  was  spent  on  him  would 
be  largely  repaid  and  he  had  already  written  to 
Jack's  father  in  England  telling  him  of  Jack's 
wound  and  need  of  nursing  and  praying  for  a 
large  remittance.  The  post  between  the  two 
countries  was  more  than  primitive,  but  this  letter 
reached  Hurstpoint  safely  and  Jack's  father  used 
his  smuggling  correspondent  in  Boulogne  to  trans- 
mit a  couple  of  hundred  pounds  to  Jack  at  Cher- 
bourg. It  is  true  the  money  had  not  yet  arrived 
when  Jack  awoke  to  consciousness,  but  Gosport's 
assurances  were  so  confident  that  the  Governor's 
native  kindness  was  sustained  by  the  hope  of 
profit. 

The  impressions  of  Jack's  first  conscious  talk 
with  the  Governor  were  only  strengthened  and 
deepened  in  the  days  to  come.  He  soon  found 
out  that  the  little  man's  name  was  Caressa — 
Achille  Caressa — and  he  couldn't  help  smiling 
when  he  first  heard  it,  for  he  had  always  thought 
of  Achilles  as  a  great  fighter  and  giant,  whereas 

130 


Great  Days 

Achille  Caressa  looked  to  him  at  first  anything 
but  formidable.  But  when  he  got  him  talking 
about  his  campaigns  he  soon  began  to  feel  a  cer- 
tain respect  for  him  which  gradually  deepened 
into  a  half-reluctant  admiration.  He  found  that 
Caressa  was  a  native  of  Nice  and  had  served 
in  the  French  army  from  his  twenty-third  year; 
he  might  now  be  about  forty. 

One  afternoon  when  sitting  in  a  funny  little 
room  downstairs  Jack  learned  with  amazement 
that  Caressa  had  fought  his  way  from  the  ranks 
to  Colonel  of  Chasseurs  in  three  years,  that  his 
thigh  bone  had  been  broken  by  a  shot  at  Areola 
and  that  the  post  of  governor  of  the  prison  had 
been  given  him  by  Bonaparte  as  a  reward  of 
valour  and  compensation  for  his  lameness.  Jack 
was  astounded  to  find  that  Colonel  Caressa  was 
an  idolater  of  Bonaparte;  the  Corsican  was  his 
deity,  his  only  religion,  indeed,  and  he  held  the 
faith  fanatically.  At  the  mere  mention  of  Bona- 
parte's name  his  voice  used  to  change. 

He  was  already  lieutenant  when  Bonaparte  at 
twenty-five  was  sent  as  Brigadier-General  to  the 
Army  of  Italy  to  command  the  artillery. 

"None  of  us  knew  much  about  him,"  Caressa 
told  Jack  one  day,  "except  that  he  had  done  big 
things  at  Toulon,  but  for  one  reason  or  another 

131 


Great  Days 

we  all  hoped  he  would  break  the  sort  of  spell  of 
defeat  that  bound  us.  From  the  moment  he  came 
no  soldier  with  brains  in  his  head  talked  or 
thought  of  anyone  else.  How  well  I  remember 
the  first  time  I  saw  him.  I  was  sent  to  his 
quarters  with  a  message  from  the  General-in-Chief 
Dumerbion;  Dumerbion  was  a  good  honest  old 
slow-coach  without  a  trace  of  ability.  But  I  was 
glad  to  take  his  message  to  General  Bonaparte, 
for  I  wanted  to  see  the  new  man  of  whom  they 
talked  so  much.  As  soon  as  I  got  to  his  quarters 
on  the  Quai  du  Midi  I  was  struck  by  the  quick 
eagerness  of  everyone,  by  a  sort  of  strained 
anxiety  on  every  face,  anxiety  that  would  have 
been  fear  if  it  hadn't  also  been  enthusiasm.  The 
officers  at  the  door  were  not  chatting  and  smoking 
as  in  the  quarters  I  had  just  left;  but  all  on  the 
qui  vive,  silent,  alert;  upstairs  the  little  ante- 
chamber was  crowded;  yet  no  one  was  sitting 
down,  no  one  speaking. 

"In  a  moment  my  name  was  taken  to  the  gen- 
eral; in  a  moment  more  I  was  told  to  go  in.  Face 
to  face  with  him  I  was  dumfounded;  he  was  so 
small — smaller  than  I,  very  thin,  very  weak-look- 
ing, with  a  saffron-yellow  face;  but  his  eyes  were 
extraordinary — searching,  imperious,  enigmatic. 
'Eh  bien?'  he  barked  as  I  didn't  speak. 

132 


((  n 


Great  Days 


n  r 


U    if 


'Dumerbion  invites  you,  mon  General,  to 
come  to  his  quarters,'  I  spluttered  out;  all  my 
senses  taken  by  his  peculiar  appearance. 

"  'Qui  done?'  he  asked.  His  'Qui  done'  'Who 
Sir'  recalled  me  to  myself. 

'General  Dumerbion,'  I  corrected  myself. 
'Return,'  he  said,   'tell  the  General-in-Chief 
I   will  wait   on   him   immediately!'      There   was 
reproof  in  his  formal  correction. 

"I  went  through  the  room  and  down  the  stairs 
three  at  a  time  and  galloped  to  the  General-in- 
Chief's  quarters  as  if  my  life  hung  on  every 
second.     'Why?' 

"I  can't  tell  you,  except  that  that  was  the  spirit 
Bonaparte  brought  into  everyone.  I  had  scarcely 
given  my  message  to  Dumerbion  when  I  met 
Bonaparte  coming  up  the  stairs;  there  was  a  flash 
of  recognition  in  his  eyes  as  he  passed  me  that 
made  my  heart  beat  as  if  I  had  been  a  child,  yet 
I  was  far  older  than  he.  What  would  you?  The 
devil  is  in  the  fellow." 

"But  is  he  really  great?"  asked  Jack. 

"Really  great!"  Caressa  laughed  scornfully. 
"Oh  yes,  my  friend;  really  great — look  what  he 
did.  In  1792  we  were  badly  beaten  by  a  handful 
of  Germans  under  the  orders  of  General  Beaulieu 
— the  very  General  whom  Bonaparte  afterwards 

133 


Great  Days 

beat  as  If  he  had  been  dough.  Think  of  it? 
There  we  were  in  February,  '94,  stuck  in  Nice  op- 
posite the  almost  impregnable  position  of  Saorgio 
where  Massena  had  been  stopped,  and  Massena 
was  a  great  general.  Everyone  regarded  Saorgio 
as  impregnable.  Massena  even  had  said  that  it 
couldn't  be  taken  without  better  equipment  and 
more  men.  There  it  was,  a  strong  position, 
guarded  on  one  side  by  the  Alps;  on  the  other 
side  by  the  sea  and  in  the  Port  of  Oneglia  the 
English  vessels,  the  allies  of  the  Piedmontese  and 
the  Austrians.  Then  think  of  our  army.  I  was 
an  officer — a  lieutenant;  but  the  only  pair  of  boots 
I  had  was  a  pair  of  espadrilles,  sea-sandals  you 
know,  like  the  fisher-boys  wear;  no  stockings;  and 
only  one  shirt  that  I  used  to  wash  myself.  Why  I 
remember  at  our  first  ball  in  Italy  we  officers 
blacked  our  toes  so  that  they  shouldn't  show  too 
badly  through  the  boots.  At  that  time  in  Nice  I 
had  had  no  pay  for  nearly  a  year;  my  wife  and 
child  and  myself  were  living  on  what  my  father 
and  mother  could  spare  us — semi-starvation!  No 
wonder  we  were  all  down  in  the  mouth  and  grum- 
bling. 

"Then  Bonaparte  came  and  changed  every- 
thing and  everybody. 

"A   great  man,   you   ask — yes,   indeed.      In   a 

134 


Great  Days 

week  he  proposed  a  new  plan  of  campaign  which 
was  adopted  by  the  Council  of  War.  The  Council 
was  made  up  of  young  Robespierre  and  Ricord, 
the  representatives  of  the  people,  and  of  the 
Generals  Dumerbion,  Massena  and  Rusca.  Bona- 
parte had  only  young  Robespierre  on  his  side 
and  his  own  impetuous,  imperious  genius;  but  his 
plan  was  adopted  and  on  the  morning  of  the  6th 
April  we  started  out. 

"On  the  8th  of  April  we  took  the  heights  that 
dominated  Oneglia ;  within  a  month  we  had  cap- 
tured Saorgio  and  won  the  Col  di  Tende,  estab- 
lished communications  with  the  army  of  the  Alps 
and  opened  a  broad  road  into  Italy.  In  a  month 
without  any  change  except  the  one  man  the  mob 
of  beaten  beggars  had  captured  two  strong  places 
— Oneglia  and  Saorgio — taken  four  thousand  pris- 
oners, five  flags  and  seven  pieces  of  cannon.  No 
wonder  Dumerbion  in  his  despatch  to  the  govern- 
ment wrote  that  our  victories  were  owing  solely 
to  'the  talent  of  General  Bonaparte  and  his  wise 
plans.' 

"A  great  man — yes,  my  friend.  And  if  the 
generals  of  the  Army  of  the  Alps  hadn't  been 
jealous  of  him  but  united  with  him,  as  he  pro- 
posed, we  should  have  swept  Italy  of  the  Austrians 
two  years  before  we  did.  And  how  they  rewarded 

135 


Great  Days 

him  when  Robespierre  fell,  sent  him  to  prison — 
la  canaille — ah!"  and  the  little  Colonel's  eyes 
glowed  like  live  coals.  "But  I  could  talk  to  you 
all  day  about  him;  I  mustn't;  I  don't  want  to  ex- 
cite you  or  the  doctor'U  pull  a  face." 

Colonel  Caressa  was  called  away  by  a  row 
among  the  prisoners.  The  English  sailors  were 
allowed  to  walk  about  for  a  couple  of  hours  in 
the  middle  of  the  day  in  the  courtyard  and  they 
often  had  fights  among  themselves,  which  the 
French  jailors  watched  with  wonder.  When  any 
of  the  other  prisoners  wanted  to  complain  or 
thought  himself  badly  treated  he  made  a  row 
and  so  there  was  generally  a  certain  excitement 
and  noise  which  seemed  to  Jack  astonishing.  A 
jailor  would  dispute  volubly  with  a  prisoner  for 
ten  minutes  and  then  go  away  muttering  while  the 
prisoner  screamed  new  arguments  after  him.  At 
first  Jack  thought  the  want  of  discipline  comic, 
but  he  soon  found  it  had  a  human  side  to  it. 

Jack  had  already  noticed  that  the  Governor  and 
doctor  were  not  very  good  friends;  no  two  men 
indeed  could  be  more  unlike  than  fiery,  kind  little 
Caressa  and  Doctor  Sauvan.  The  doctor  was  a 
thin  tall  man  of  about  fifty  with  a  head  running 
up  to  a  point  at  the  back,  which  with  its  close 
cropped  grey  hair  reminded  one  ludicrously  of  a 

136 


Great  Days 

snow-capped  mountain  peak.  Otherwise  his  face 
was  remarkable  chiefly  for  a  pair  of  patient 
brown  eyes  and  a  long  bony  jaw.  He  may  have 
been  a  republican  and  revolutionary  as  Caressa 
said,  but  he  didn't  talk  much  about  his  political 
opinions;  the  Reign  of  Terror  which  he  had  lived 
through  in  Paris  had  made  him  cautious.  He  al- 
ways thought  before  he  spoke  and  when  in  doubt 
or  meditation,  he  had  a  trick  of  sucking  his  upper 
lip  into  his  mouth  which  was  unaffectedly  charac- 
teristic. He  was  a  master  of  his  trade  and  in- 
spired Jack  with  a  certain  confidence  as  a  well- 
read  and  capable  man.  As  soon  as  the  ice  was 
broken  between  them  Jack  noticed  that  he  was 
naturally  argumentative  and  talked  a  much  purer 
and  more  bookish  French  than  Caressa,  but  Jack 
preferred  the  little  Governor's  short  phrases  and 
vivid  expressions. 

In  one  of  his  early  talks  with  Jack,  Doctor 
Sauvan  expressed  himself  astonished  by  the  quick- 
ness with  which  he  was  regaining  strength. 

"Immense  vitality  you  have,"  he  said.  "Are 
your  father  and  mother  young?" 

"I'm  the  eldest  boy,"  Jack  replied.  "My 
father  was  about  thirty  when  he  married  and  my 
mother  about  twenty." 

"I  only  ask,"  interjected  the  Doctor,  "because 

137 


Great  Days 

I  have  a  theory  that  a  young  father  and  mother 
give  greater  physical  energy  to  the  offspring. 
General  Bonaparte  whom  Colonel  Caressa  is  al- 
ways talking  about,  the  Italian  condottiere,  was 
born,  I  believe,  of  a  mother  who  was  under  six- 
teen. I  am  astonished  to  find  too,"  Dr.  Sauvan 
went  on,  "that  your  head  is  long;  I  expected  an 
English  head  to  be  round  like  German  heads. 
Have  you  any  Celtic  blood  in  you?" 

Although  Jack  heard  the  word  Celtic  for  the 
first  time  he  divined  its  meaning. 

"I  suppose,"  he  rephed,  "you  would  call  me 
pure  Celt;  my  father  was  Welsh  and  my  mother 
Irish." 

"That  is  just  what  I  had  imagined,"  cried  the 
doctor,  evidently  greatly  pleased.  "You  have  all 
the  characteristic  traits  of  the  Celtic  race;  you  are 
like  our  Bretons,  long  bodied,  short  legged;  very 
broad  and  strong." 

He  seemed  to  like  Jack  the  better  because  the 
youth  happened  to  be  a  good  example  of  one  of 
his  pet  theories.  He  was  peculiarly  logical,  re- 
flective and  reasonable;  an  absolute  contrast  to  the 
little  Colonel,  as  slow  of  blood  and  quiet  as  the 
Governor  was  passionate  and  explosive.  For 
some  reason  or  other  he  inspired  Jack  with  more 
confidence  than  did  Caressa;  but  sooner  or  later 

138 


Great  Days 

the  youth  was  sure  to  find  out  that  the  Irritable, 
passionate  Colonel  had  the  better  heart  and  a 
more  generous  nature. 

As  soon  as  Jack  began  to  go  about  the  Colonel 
told  him  that  he  would  accept  his  parole  not  to 
escape,  and  when  Jack  asked  him  exactly  what 
that  implied,  he  said:  "It  is  a  privilege  granted 
to  officers.  If  you  give  your  word  of  honour  not 
to  escape  and  to  come  back  to  your  cell  every 
night  before  nine  o'clock,  I'll  give  you  a  key  and 
you'll  be  free  to  go  about  in  the  day  time.  I  have 
to  answer  for  your  appearance  if  the  Govern- 
ment wants  you;  but  I've  no  wish  to  make  your 
detention  painful.   .   .  ." 

Before  giving  his  parole  Jack  wanted  to  see 
Gosport  and  Colonel  Caressa  made  no  difficulty 
in  allowing  a  meeting.  Gosport  advised  him  to 
give  his  word  and  to  get  the  freedom. 

"There  is  small  chance  of  escape,"  he  said, 
"unless  you  know  French  like  a  native,  for  there 
is  a  great  deal  of  hatred  of  the  English,  and  if 
you  got  out  of  the  prison  everybody  would  give 
you  up.  Besides,  if  I  were  you,  I'd  get  in  with 
Colonel  Caressa,  who  seems  a  good  little  fellow. 
I  am  told  he  has  a  great  deal  of  influence  with 
this  Bonaparte  and  he  might  get  you  exchanged 

139 


Great  Dap 

pretty  easily.  At  any  rate  that's  how  I'd  try  to 
work  it  if  I  were  you." 

Jack  questioned  him  about  the  others  and  was 
desperately  sorry  to  hear  that  Riding  was  missing. 
Gosport  would  have  it  that  he  was  not  drowned. 

"I  saw  him  just  before  we  were  taken  off," 
he  said,  "and  he  was  certainly  not  injured  then. 
I  think  you'll  find  he  got  to  shore." 

"But  the  brig  went  down  at  once,  didn't  she?" 
questioned  Jack. 

"No,  no,"  replied  Gosport.  "Her  decks  were 
awash,  but  she  was  still  afloat  when  we  got  to 
the  frigate.  Riding  and  Knight  were  together 
at  the  companion-hatch  and  I  reckon  that  they 
floated  it  off  when  the  brig  sunk  and  tried  to  make 
their  way  to  shore  on  it.     But  we'll  soon  hear." 

Jack  questioned  him  further  about  the  prison 
food  and  treatment.  The  food  Gosport  thought 
good  and  the  treatment  surprisingly  lenient  and 
kindly.  But  the  want  of  discipline  in  the  prison 
struck  him  even  more  than  it  had  struck  Jack. 
Still  he  was  fairly  content  and  full  of  hope  that  he 
might  be  exchanged  quite  soon.  As  he  said:  "We 
have  captured  ten  French  sailors  for  every  English- 
man they've  got,  so  theexchangeoughttobeeasy." 
He  little  knew  how  difficult  it  was  to  bring  about 
any  agreement  between  the  two  governments. 

140 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AFTER  about  a  month  of  prison  Jack  re- 
ceived his  first  remittance  from  his  father 
with  a  long  letter  telling  him  to  ask  for  an  ex- 
change because  his  mother  was  broken  hearted 
at  the  idea  of  his  being  in  prison  and  was  taking 
his  absence  sadly  to  heart.  His  father  warned 
him  to  be  careful  with  his  money,  for  it  might 
be  difficult  to  get  it  to  him  regularly;  at  the  same 
time  adding  that  if  money  would  help  to  free 
him  he  could  have  an  advance  up  to  a  considerable 
sum.  The  end  of  the  letter  frightened  Jack  a 
little;  his  father  again  said  that  his  mother  was 
weak  and  ailing.  Jack  wrote  to  her  at  once  to 
^'cheer  her  up,  and  at  the  same  time  to  his  father, 
thanking  him  for  the  money;  he  was  really  well 
treated  he  said,  and  was  learning  French,  and 
had  completely  recovered  from  the  crack  on  the 
head;  they  must  think  of  him  as  quite  happy.  He 
begged  his  father  to  tell  him  whether  Riding  or 
Knight  had  got  home? 

He   made   up   his   mind   not   to   ask   Colonel 
Caressa  for  any  account,  but  simply  to  give  him 

141 


Great  Days 

fifty  pounds  a  quarter;  and  knowing  the  Colonel's 
vanity  he  thought  he  would  write  him  a  letter 
thanking  him  and  enclosing  the  money.  This  he 
did  and  thereby  completed  his  conquest  of  the 
little  Colonel. 

After  having  promised  not  to  escape  himself 
nor  to  help  any  of  the  other  prisoners  to  get 
away  Jack  was  given  the  run  of  the  prison;  and 
as  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough  to  go  about  he 
was  allowed  to  go  out  for  walks  almost  freely. 
For  some  time  he  didn't  use  this  privilege  much, 
for  the  lower  class  townsfolk  and  especially  the 
sailors  from  French  men-o'-war  were  exceedmgly 
bitter  against  the  English,  and  Jack  was  recog- 
nised as  an  Englishman  as  soon  as  he  opened  his 
mouth.  Accordingly  he  kept  a  good  deal  to  the 
prison;  and  in  the  prison  the  only  persons  always 
free  to  talk  to  him  were  the  doctor  and  Colonel 
Caressa,  for  the  jailers  evidently  disliked  his 
spending  much  time  with  the  English  sailors.  In 
fact  he  found  that  the  best  thing  he  could  do  was 
to  ask  formal  permission  and  go  to  see  Gosport 
and  the  others  only  in  company  with  the  Governor 
or  doctor.  For  these  reasons  he  was  thrown 
back  on  the  company  of  these  two  at  all  times 
and  nothing  could  have  been  better  for  him  than 
this  companionship. 

142 


Great  Days 

Sitting  in  the  little  parlor  one  day  looking  out 
on' the  courtyard  he  asked  the  Colonel  whether 
the  foils  on  the  wall  were  real  swords  or  not, 
and  immediately  discovered  that  he  had  got  on 
the  Colonel's  pet  hobby.  Caressa  explained  to 
him  not  only  the  difference  between  the  duelling 
sword  and  the  ordinary  sword  but  showed  him 
a  dozen  specimens  of  cavalry  sabres.  The  revolu- 
tionary sword,  a  heavy  straight  weapon  with 
the  Gallic  cock  as  a  handle  in  solid  brass, 
which  must  have  weighed  a  couple  of  pounds, 
took  Jack's  fancy  especially;  the  artist  had  put 
all  the  defiance  of  the  Marseillaise  into  the  crow- 
ing head. 

Once  launched  on  his  own  theme  there  was  no 
stopping  Caressa.  Before  being  made  a  lieu- 
tenant it  appeared  he  had  been  the  maltre  d' amies 
of  his  regiment  and  a  famous  swordsman.  Jack 
showed  such  admiration,  was  so  eager  to  hear 
all  about  his  exploits  that  the  Colonel  at  length 
offered  to  give  him  lessons.  The  offer  was  ac- 
cepted with  dehght,  and  the  time  fixed  for  prac- 
tice, the  morning  hour  before  the  dejeuner  and 
after  the  Colonel  had  dealt  with  the  daily  report 
of  the  prison.  Of  course  for  some  time  the 
Colonel  was  easily  Jack's  superior,  but  in  four  or 
five  months,  served  by  his  quickness  and  strength, 

143 


Great  Days 

the  youth  made  the  contest  interesting.  Caressa's 
lameness  was  of  course  a  handicap  to  him  and 
he  encouraged  Jack  to  take  advantage  of  it.  But 
when  after  five  or  six  months  Jack  became  really 
expert  and  his  adversary's  lameness  began  to  tell 
against  him,  Caressa  could  not  control  his  ill- 
humour;  "cette  sacree  cuisse"  he  used  to  mutter 
every  time  he  was  touched  till  at  length  Jack 
wished  that  both  his  legs  were  sound  so  that  he 
should  have  no  cause  for  complaint.  Often  and 
often  the  game  terminated  in  a  real  display  of  ill- 
humour,  for  Jack's  training  had  made  him  excep- 
tionally quick  and  strong,  and  when  the  Colonel 
was  touched  twice  in  succession  he  invariably  lost 
his  temper.  But  still  the  practice  went  on,  for  the 
Colonel  loved  the  game  and  began  to  see  that 
after  all  his  lameness  was  a  very  useful  excuse. 
He  took  pleasure  in  developing  Jack's  skill  and 
quickness  to  the  uttermost,  and  before  the  end  of 
the  first  year  he  had  made  the  youth  an  extraor- 
dinary swordsman,  trained  not  only  with  the 
foil,  but  with  the  cavalry  sabre  as  well.  Mean- 
while too  Jack  had  learnt  all  sorts  of  different 
lessons  from  the  fiery  little  Colonel  and  the 
philosophic  doctor  besides  good  colloquial  French. 
Sauvan  believed  in  the  revolution  almost  as  de- 
voutly as  Caressa  believed  in  Napoleon,  and  bit 

144 


Great  Days 

by  bit  Jack  came  to  understand  that  world-shaking 
event. 

At  first  of  course  he  talked  in  the  usual  Eng- 
lish way  of  the  horrors  of  the  Reign  of  Terror 
and  the  thousands  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
were  guillotined,  but  the  doctor  wouldn't  have  it. 

"The  nobles  kicked  up  a  great  fuss,"  he  said, 
"because  two  or  three  thousand  of  them  were 
executed;  they  belonged  to  the  highest  class  and 
therefore  everyone  listened  to  them;  but  no  one 
says  anything  about  the  forty  thousand  men  who 
starved  to  death  in  France  in  the  winter  of  1788. 
You  talk  about  the  fishwives  of  Paris,  but  you 
say  nothing  of  the  thousands  and  thousands  of 
hard-working  women  who  year  after  year  saw 
their  children  die  in  infancy  for  want  of  proper 
food."  Jack  was  compelled  at  length  to  reahse 
that  the  selfishness  of  the  privileged  classes  was 
the  first  cause  of  the  revolution. 

And  when  Jack  brought  forth  the  famous  argu- 
ment which  he  had  heard  from  Captain  Nugent 
that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  equality  in  nature, 
and  therefore  it  was  silly  to  talk  of  equality  in 
life,  he  was  confronted  with  new  and  impressive 
arguments.  Caressa  admitted  that  absolute 
equality  was  impossible  and  undesirable,  but  he 
insisted  that  the  French  Revolution  had  brought 

145 


Great  Days 

about  a  great  approach  towards  equality,  and 
that  the  natural  differences  between  one  man  and 
another  had  been  exaggerated  and  made  more  un- 
just than  they  were  in  reality  by  bad  laws  of  in- 
heritance which  now  in  France  at  least  had  been 
bettered.  He  often  gave  the  dress  of  men  as  an 
instance  of  what  he  meant. 

"Before  the  Revolution,"  he  said,  "It  was 
common  for  a  noble  to  spend  two  or  three  hun- 
dred thousand  livres  on  a  single  suit;  now  there 
is  a  great  approach  towards  equality  in  dress  and 
everyone  is  the  better  for  it.   .   .   . 

"The  belief  in  equality  is  the  gospel  of  our  time. 
Look  how  we  treat  prisoners  and  criminals  to- 
day; formerly  the  criminal  was  looked  upon  as 
a  wild  beast  and  tortured;  to-day,  thanks  to  this 
doctrine  of  equality,  the  magistrates  all  know  that 
they  must  think  of  him  as  a  man — like  themselves. 
They  must  consider  his  failings  and  his  faults  as 
they  would  their  own,  and  so  the  barbarous  penal 
laws  of  the  past  all  stained  in  blood  and  defiled 
with  cruelty  are  being  swept  away.  We  used  to 
kill  a  man  in  France  for  stealing  even  out  of  hun- 
ger; could  anything  be  more  monstrous?" 

A  new  light  seemed  to  shine  into  Jack's  mind: 
"I  remember,"  he  said,  "reading  in  a  paper  just 
before  I  left  England  of  a  boy  who  had  broken 

146 


Great  Days 

a  pane  of  glass  in  a  shop  window  after  sunset  and 
stolen  a  spoon.  He  was  sentenced  to  be  hung  for 
burglary  because  it  was  after  sunset,  although  the 
shop  was  not  even  closed." 

"A  child?" 

"A  boy  of  thirteen,"  replied  Jack. 

"What  barbarous  cruelty,"  cried  Sauvan, 
"cruelty  that  would  be  impossible  in  France  and 
will  soon  be  impossible  in  England  too  ..."  and 
he  shot  out  his  under  lip  over  the  upper  one  in 
the  trick  peculiar  to  him  when  thinking;  a  moment 
later  he  went  on:  "Our  Revolution  was  not  only 
a  revolt  against  bad  government,  and  the  exploi- 
tation of  the  poor;  it  had  its  ideal  striving,  too." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  asked  Jack. 

"Pagan  civilization,"  Sauvan  replied,  "was 
founded  on  slavery;  our  modern  civilization  must 
be  founded  on  universal  labour.  Privileged  posi- 
tion damages  the  privileged;  the  noble  in  France 
will  be  better  now  that  he  has  to  earn  his  bread 
like  other  men.  Labour  is  the  first  condition  of 
life.  The  time  will  come  when  women  too  will 
see  that  it  is  their  duty  to  do  their  share  of  work 
in  the  world.   .  .   ." 

Even  Caressa  was  inchned  to  admit  that  there 
was  some  truth  in  the  doctor's  praise  of  the  Rev- 
olution : 

147 


Great  Days 

"I  often  wondered,"  he  said,  "why  we  beat 
the  Austrians  so  easily,  and  I  think  it  was  be- 
cause the  principles  of  the  French  Revolution  ap- 
pealed to  everyone  and  brought  us  sympathy 
everywhere.  .  .  . 

"All  through  our  campaigns  in  Italy,"  he  went 
on,  "whenever  we  struck  up  the  Marseillaise  we 
found  our  enemies  taking  it  up  and  singing  it  too; 
it's  the  hymn  of  human  revolt!" 

Sauvan  added  sententiously  .  .  .  "Within  the 
next  ten  or  twenty  years  the  French  Revolution 
will  be  regarded  as  the  best  thing  that  ever  hap- 
pened to  men — the  sacred  charter  of  humanity!" 

Jack  was  enormously  interested  in  these  talks; 
the  points  of  view  of  the  two  men  were  so  different 
that  they  worked  on  his  mind  like  sunshine  and 
rain  work  on  the  earth,  forcing  it  to  produce.  He 
began  to  think  for  himself  on  all  questions,  and 
his  mind  grew  in  quickness  and  strength  as 
rapidly  as  his  body. 

He  had  spent  six  or  seven  months  in  Cher- 
bourg when  the  Colonel  announced  to  him  one 
morning  that  his  niece  Suzanne  was  finally  leaving 
school  and  coming  to  live  with  him. 

"I  have  seen  very  Httle  of  her,"  he  said.  "Her 
mother  died  long  ago.     Her  father  quite  lately." 

"Prison  is  no  place  for  her,"  he  said.     "She's 

148 


Great  Days 

too  young,  but  she  tells  me  she  has  learnt  all 
that  the  school  can  teach  and  she  wants  to  come 
home,  and  of  course  I  want  to  have  her.  She's 
very  hke  her  mother,  who  died  the  day  after  Lodi 
— the  day  I  was  made  Colonel  and  could  hope  to 
give  her  a  little  easier  time,  for  my  pay  was 
doubled.  Good  luck  often  comes  too  late  in  this 
world.  .  .  ." 

"Perhaps  I  shall  be  in  Mademoiselle's  way?" 
said  Jack,  partly  to  divert  his  companion's 
thoughts  from  the  sad  subject  and  partly  to  know 
how  much  the  routine  of  the  house  would  be 
changed  by  this  new  inmate. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  Colonel^  "she  writes  to  me 
that  she  wants  the  little  room  on  the  first  floor; 
it  is  just  above  yours  by  the  way;  I  did  it  up 
prettily  for  her  when  I  came  here  a  couple  of 
years  ago." 

A  few  days  afterwards  the  girl  arrived  at 
Cherbourg  in  the  diligence  and  the  Governor  went 
to  meet  it  on  the  square  in  front  of  the  church  of 
La  Trinite. 

Jack  stayed  in  his  own  room  and  waited.  About 
eleven  o'clock  they  came  in  and  he  heard  a  clear 
girl's  voice  chattering  and  laughing  before  she 
ran  upstairs  to  her  room.  He  could  hear  her 
walking  on  the  floor  above  his  head;  then  in  a 

149 


Great  Days 

little  while  she  came  down  again  and  went  into 
the  tiny  dining-room  beside  his  room.  He  could 
almost  feel  her  moving  about  in  spite  of  the  wall 
that  divided  them,  so  wrought  up  was  he;  his 
heart  was  beating,  he  hardly  knew  why.  He  was 
a  little  cross  with  himself  for  being  excited;  what 
was  she  like,  he  wondered? 

Then  came  the  Colonel's  quick,  sharp  voice 
calling  to  him  that  dejeuner  was  ready.  He  went 
into  the  room  and  was  presented  to  Mademoiselle 
Suzanne.  Jack  was  prepared  to  see  a  girl  of 
sixteen  or  seventeen,  and,  judging  by  himself  at 
that  age,  he  expected  to  find  almost  a  child;  he 
was  presented  to  a  young  lady  who  bowed  to  him 
with  the  ease  of  an  old  acquaintance.  She  was 
about  medium  height  and  very  dark,  her  features 
small  and  fairly  regular,  the  face  a  little 
sharp  with  pointed  chin,  the  eyes  so  large  they 
looked,  he  thought,  like  prunes  in  milk,  and 
masses  of  black  hair  arranged  in  heavy  bands. 

"I  know  you  so  well,  Mr.  Jack,"  she  began, 
"from  my  father's  letters.  It  is  as  if  I  had 
known  you  for  months,  only  you  are  quite  different 
from  what  I  thought." 

"Really,"  exclaimed  Jack,  taken  aback  by  this 
sudden  assault.  His  first  glance  had  shown  him 
that  she  was  attractive;  as  he  began  to  look  at 

150 


Great  Days 

her  carefully  he  thought  her  beautiful.  She 
looked  up  and  caught  him  examining  her  and 
broke  into  a  laugh  which  hardly  accounted  for 
her  heightened  colour. 

"You're  amused?"  said  Jack. 

"My  own  thoughts  amuse  me  very  often,"  she 
replied,  smiling. 

Jack  was  a  little  resentful  of  her  complete  ease 
and  detachment.  He  was  annoyed,  too,  by  the 
quick  glance  that  merely  seemed  to  touch  him 
mockingly  and  he  shut  himself  up  in  silence  and 
seriousness. 

"We  missed  our  lesson,  sir,"  he  said  to  the 
Colonel,  "perhaps  you  will  give  me  a  longer  one 
to-morrow." 

"Of  course,"  the  Colonel  agreed,  "we  mustn*t 
leave  it  off  long  enough  to  get  stiff;  now  I'm  in 
training  again  I  think  the  half-hour  sword  play 
does  my  lameness  good." 

Jack  went  to  his  room  after  the  lunch,  his  heart 
a-flutter  wondering  how  he  could  make  Suzanne 
like  him;  he  wanted  to  make  her  care  for  him 
intensely;  but  how?  Should  he  show  her  that  he 
thought  her  pretty  and  liked  her,  or  should  he 
conceal  it  all?  He  determined  to  show  nothing. 
His  training  with  the  sword  had  taught  him  it  was 
easy  to  win  if  his  adversary  could  not  divine  his 

151 


Great  Days 

desire.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  wait.  To  be 
treated  lightly  by  a  mere  girl  was  intolerable;  he 
would  be  very  dignified  and  courteous.  He  suc- 
ceeded in  being  rather  gloomy  and  ill  at  ease. 

Meanwhile  Suzanne,  too,  was  not  at  her  best; 
she  had  been  interested  and  her  curiosity  excited 
by  her  uncle,  who  was  always  singing  young 
Morgan's  praises  in  his  letters.  She  left  school 
and  came  home  just  to  meet  Jack;  a  flirtation  with 
a  man  she  decided  would  be  a  great  deal  more 
amusing  than  more  lessons.  When  her  uncle 
met  her  he  told  her  how  Jack  had  given  him 
fifty  pounds  and  how  in  his  letter  he  had  hoped 
that  the  same  sum  quarterly  might  be  accepted 
as  a  fair  price  for  his  board.  The  generosity 
and  courtesy  and  perhaps  a  little  the  money  itself 
had  had  a  great  effect  on  Colonel  Caressa  and 
had  a  still  greater  effect  on  the  girl.  She  came 
to  the  meeting  gravely  prepared  to  meet  a  hero 
and  found  Jack  glancing  at  her  half  timidly,  half 
admiringly.  She  couldn't  help  laughing  gaily. 
He  had  come  down  from  his  pedestal  and  her 
coquetry  told  her  that  his  conquest  would  be 
easier  than  she  had  hoped;  his  evident  admira- 
tion flattered  her  deliciously. 

But  when  he  drew  away  and  answered  In  mono- 
syllables she  was  afraid  she  had  hurt  him  In  some 

152 


Great  Days 

way;  then  a  definite  fear  shook  her;  perhaps  he 
didn't  want  to  like  a  French  girl — a  Catholic? 
She  promised  herself  to  find  out  next  day  and 
to  show  him  at  least  that  she  was  no  bigot.  Her 
uncle's  contempt  of  all  religion  and  Dr.  Sauvan's 
sarcasms  had  dried  up  the  fount  of  pious  en- 
thusiasm in  her  which  may  have  rendered  her 
more  eager  to  spend  her  faculty  of  admiration 
on  some  man.  However  this  may  be,  Made- 
moiselle Suzanne  saw  she  had  made  an  impression 
on  Jack  and  determined  that  all  she  had  to  do 
was  to  stand  aloof  and  he  would  come  after  her. 
She  would  not  meet  him  till  next  day  she  decided, 
and  under  the  pretext  of  a  Httle  fatigue  she  kept 
to  her  room  that  evening. 

Next  morning  she  decided  to  go  down  to  break- 
fast and  she  made  the  most  careful  toilette  possi- 
ble. But  before  breakfast  she  heard  talking, 
stamping  and  the  ring  of  swords  outside  in  the 
courtyard  and  when  she  peeped  through  her  blind 
she  saw  Jack  and  her  uncle  fencing  as  if  their 
lives  depended  on  each  hit.  She  could  have  cried 
with  annoyance;  what  silly  creatures  men  were 
to  go  exciting  themselves  like  that  about  nothing. 
But  when  the  sport  had  continued  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  and  some  of  the  jailers  had  come  to 
witness  It  she  made  up  her  mind  to  go  down  too; 

153 


Great  Days 

perhaps  that  would  put  a  stop  to  it;  anyhow  It 
was  nearly  the  breakfast  hour. 

Some  time  before  this  the  Colonel  had  found 
that  one  of  his  turnkeys  named  Chichet  was  an 
old  soldier  who  plumed  himself  on  his  skill  with 
the  sword.  He  was  at  once  called  upon  to  show 
what  he  could  do,  and  the  Colonel  was  delighted 
to  find  that  if  Jack  was  getting  a  little  too  quick 
for  him  he  was  always  Chichet's  master.  On  this 
particular  morning  he  gave  himself  the  pleasure 
of  playing  umpire  in  a  conflict  between  Chichet 
and  Jack.  The  two  had  been  fencing  about  five 
minutes  when  Mademoiselle  Suzanne  made  her 
appearance  as  demure  as  possible.  No  one  noticed 
her  for  a  minute  or  two  and  her  uncle  even  put 
out  his  hand  to  hold  her  back.  She  laughed  aloud 
at  the  intent  earnestness  all  the  men  showed  in 
the  game,  but  at  the  laugh  Jack  only  redoubled 
his  efforts  and  touched  Chichet  twice  or  thrice 
in  quick  succession. 

"He  is  doing  his  best,"  said  Mademoiselle  to 
herself,  "because  I'm  here."  The  consciousness 
gave  her  heightened  colour  and  bright  eyes — the 
assurance  of  victory. 

When  the  swords  dropped  she  rewarded  him 
with  "How  well  you  fence,  Mr.  Jack;  I  had  no 
idea  anybody  could  be  so  quick." 

154 


Great  Days 

Jack  had  hardly  time  to  say  "Good  morning" 
to  her  when  her  uncle  asked  him  for  one  more 
bout  and  the  two  began  again.  At  first  Jack  in- 
tended to  do  his  best  and  show  that  he  could 
master  the  Colonel  as  easily  as  Chichet,  but  of 
a  sudden  he  realised  that  the  older  man  was 
playing  his  very  best,  meaning  to  win  if  possible, 
and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  let  him  win;  after 
all  Caressa  had  been  very  kind  to  him  and  it  was 
only  natural  that  he  should  desire  his  niece's  ad- 
miration. 

Chichet  stood  near  Mademoiselle  Suzanne 
while  the  two  were  fencing. 

"My  uncle  is  very  clever,  isn't  he?"  she  said. 

"Very,"  replied  Chichet,  "but  the  Englishman 
is  extraordinary." 

"There!"  she  cried,  "my  uncle  touched  him." 

"Yes,"  Chichet  admitted,  "but  it  is  only  because 
the  Englishman  is  not  trying;  I  never  saw  him 
fence  so  badly." 

Again  that  tell-tale  colour  came  into  Made- 
moiselle Suzanne's  face;  he  had  triumphed  over 
Chichet  for  her;  he  was  sparing  her  uncle  for 
her.  It  was  already  he,  he.  Something  mag- 
nanimous in  Jack's  conduct  touched  her  deeply: 
were  men  larger  minded  and  nobler  than  women, 
she  wondered?     In  her  heart  she  decided  that  he 

155 


Great  Days 

was.  She  grew  a  little  humble  in  mind  when  she 
thought  of  all  his  qualities.  Meanwhile  Jack  had 
been  brought  to  good  humour  by  his  own  con- 
scious superiority  at  the  game  and  by  the  mere 
fact  that  the  girl  was  looking  on. 

When  at  length  they  stopped  he  turned  towards 
her  with  a  merry  look  and  smile.  Her  eyes  could 
not  help  getting  entangled  in  his  for  a  moment; 
she  was  extremely  pretty  he  decided;  while  she 
cast  her  eyes  down  in  a  little  flutter  of  delicious 
shyness;  had  she  shown  him  too  clearly?  And 
so  Mother  Nature  played  her  old  game  with  the 
two  children. 

A  new  life  began  for  Jack.  He  found  himself 
going  for  walks  and  drives  with  Suzanne  and  her 
uncle;  sometimes  round  the  town  and  the  great 
bay;  at  other  times  up  the  heights  that  lay  behind 
the  town  to  this  fort  or  that — endless  excursions. 
The  girl  seemed  to  have  quicksilver  in  her  veins 
so  full  of  life  was  she  and  ever  new  projects. 
The  truth  was  she  was  tasting  all  the  de- 
lights of  first  love;  watching  the  flower  of  it 
grow  in  her,  tending  it  as  only  a  girl-woman  can 
tend  it,  thrilling  again  and  again  with  the  certainty 
that  the  great  moment  was  coming  nearer  and 
nearer. 

Jack  in  the  meantime  was  a  little  exasperated — 

156 


Great  Days 

a  little  puzzled.  If  in  the  carriage  he  touched 
her  foot  a  little  obviously  she  would  draw  it  away 
with  a  smile  or  word  of  excuse;  she  always  seemed 
to  like  to  be  with  him,  but  she  avoided  any  oppor- 
tunity of  being  alone  with  him.  He  could  not 
make  her  out.  Now  and  then  he  got  piqued  by 
her  apparent  unconsciousness  and  showed  ill- 
temper,  but  she  soon  laughed  and  chased  away  the 
clouds;  no  sullenness  could  stand  long  against  her 
good  temper  and  gay  kindness.  Jack  began  to 
be  obsessed  by  her;  every  detail  of  her  face  and 
every  line  of  her  figure  were  imprinted  in  him. 
He  could  shut  his  eyes  and  see  her  at  any  moment; 
on  this  drive  he  had  been  struck  by  the  beautiful 
oval  of  her  jaw — like  a  peeled  egg  in  white 
smooth  firm  outline — exquisite  he  decided  with  a 
thrill;  on  another  occasion  his  eye  had  caught  the 
outline  of  her  hip  and  thigh  and  the  hesitating 
curve  remained  with  him  as  a  symbol  of  beauty. 
Once  when  getting  into  the  little  carriage  the 
horses  started  just  as  she  was  preparing  to  sit 
down  and  threw  her  back  into  her  seat  and  Jack 
had  a  glimpse  of  shapely  limbs  which  set  all  his 
pulses  throbbing.  At  will  he  could  close  his  eyes 
and  relive  any  of  the  charming  moments.  Con- 
tinually as  she  got  out  of  the  carriage  or  into  it  he 
touched  her  involuntarily.     Sometimes  looking  at 

157 


Great  Days 

her  he  felt  that  he  must  kiss  her  lips  and  then 
her  eyes  would  meet  his  and  he  became  ashamed 
of  his  thoughts;  or  else  she  would  draw  his  atten- 
tion to  some  humorous  thing  in  the  street  and 
laughter  would  relieve  the  obsession.  Day  and 
night  now  she  was  with  him. 

One  morning  just  after  breakfast  Chichet 
brought  some  big  keys  in,  and  as  he  laid  them 
down  he  said:  "I  have  been  through  all  the 
dungeons,  sir,  and  underground  cells;  the  water 
is  coming  into  Numbers  eleven  and  twelve;  they 
should  be  cleaned  out." 

At  once  Mademoiselle  Suzanne  seized  the  occa- 
sion: "Oh  let  us  visit  them;  I  should  love  to  see 
the  dungeons." 

Soon  they  were  following  Chichet  down  steps 
all  green  and  dark  that  wound  below  the  cellars. 
Chichet  went  in  front  with  a  lantern  and  kept 
swinging  it  behind  him  to  show  the  way.  Jack 
had  also  one  that  he  put  carefully  forward  so 
as  to  guide  Suzanne's  little  feet.  She  shrank 
back  from  the  first  cell;  she  would  not  go  in,  she 
had  seen  enough.  The  cell  was  about  eight  feet 
square,  really  a  black  hole  lighted  only  by  the 
little  guichet  or  barred  window  fixed  at  the  very 
top  of  the  door. 

When  the  door  was  thrown  open: 

158 


Great  Days 

"How  terrible!"  she  cried,  paling  at  the 
thought  of  living  in  such  a  place. 

"These  are  the  best,"  Chichet  explained,  "the 
second  range  down  below  to  the  North  are  under- 
neath these  and  they  have  no  guichet  at  all  in 
the  doors;  they  are  black  holes  and  from  Number 
eleven  on  to  the  East  the  water's  coming  in  and 
there  are  crowds  of  rats;  nobody  could  live  in 
them  for  long." 

"Let  us  see  them,"  said  Jack,  partly  out  of  cu- 
riosity, partly  with  the  hope  that  fortune  might 
favour  him  and  give  him  a  minute  or  two  alone 
with  Suzanne.  They  went  along  the  corridor  and 
followed  Chichet  down  some  more  steps.  They 
had  to  take  care  for  the  stone  steps  were  dank  and 
slippery.  Here  was  another  row  of  cells ;  Chichet 
opened  one  of  the  doors;  the  darkness  of  it  was 
appalling;  it  made  itself  felt;  it  was  like  blind- 
ness. 

"Let  us  go  in  a  moment,"  whispered  Suzanne 
shuddering,  "and  close  the  door.  I  want 
to  see  what  effect  it  has;  first  of  all,  hide 
the  lantern.  Monsieur  Jack,  and  when  we 
call,  you  will  open,  Monsieur  Chichet,  won't 
you?" 

Jack's  heart  began  to  beat.  They  stepped  in- 
side the  door.     He  held  the  lantern  behind  him 

159 


Great  Days 

and  took  her  arm  in  his.  She  gave  a  faint  little 
cry  and  then  said : 

"Give  me  the  lantern." 

Jack  gave  her  the  lantern  and  she  held  it  high 
above  her  head;  her  face  was  in  half  darkness, 
the  gleam  of  the  lantern  fell  on  the  line  of  her 
bust,  strained  a  little  by  her  uplifted  arm;  Jack 
couldn't  resist  the  temptation;  in  a  moment  he  had 
put  his  arms  about  her : 

"I  love  you,"  he  cried.  Did  she  give  him  her 
lips  for  a  moment  or  did  their  lips  meet  just  as 
she  was  already  slipping  out  of  his  arms? 

"Open,  Monsieur  Chichet,"  she  cried,  and  the 
door  was  opened  and  the  pale  light  struggled  in. 

"No,  I  won't  go  down  any  more,"  she  decided. 
"I  must  get  up  to  the  hght,  straight  up,"  she 
commanded  imperiously;  again  Chichet  led  the 
way  and  Jack  followed,  wondering  whether  he 
had  offended  her,  but  with  the  image  of  her  as 
she  stood  in  the  cell  printed  in  his  very  being. 
Without  closing  his  eyes  he  could  see  the  rounded 
outline  of  the  breast  and  the  splash  of  light  on 
it  and  the  lips  above. 

When  they  came  into  the  courtyard  they  found 
the  doctor  and  Colonel  together,  and  Made- 
moiselle Suzanne  was  full  of  questions.  Could 
people  live   in   such   dungeons?     What  sort  of 

160 


Great  Days 

people  used  to  be  sent  there?  Her  uncle  told  her 
that  people  had  been  confined  there  without  trial 
under  the  old  regime,  the  books  showed  that  one 
man  had  lived  in  number  seven  for  five  years. 

"Men  and  women  were  treated  worse  than  we 
would  treat  wild  beasts,"  Sauvan  remarked,  "but 
the  Revolution  changed  all  that.  I  was  astonished 
the  other  day,"  he  went  on,  "to  find  that  they 
didn't  spend  on  the  prisoners'  food  one  quarter 
of  what  we  spend.  They  murdered  their  victims 
by  slow  starvation  while  torturing  them  with  bad 
air,  darkness  and  solitude." 

Jack  was  not  in  tune  at  the  moment  for  political 
discussion.  He  was  in  a  fever.  He  made  up  his 
mind  to  take  the  first  occasion  to  find  out  whether 
Suzanne  cared  for  him  or  not.  He  could  not 
wait;  he  must  know.  All  that  day  she  seemed 
to  avoid  him  or  at  least  no  occasion  presented 
itself.  But  fortune  favours  Intense  desire;  next 
morning  just  after  breakfast  Colonel  Caressa  was 
called  out  by  Chichet  to  speak  to  a  prisoner  on 
the  fourth  floor  who  was  making  a  row  over  his 
food.  The  Colonel  went  out  hurriedly  and  left 
Suzanne  and  Jack  standing  together  before  the 
window. 

Jack  went  nearer,  meaning  to  speak  to  her,  but 
she  turned  her  head  over  her  shoulder  to  look  at 

161 


Great  Days 

him,  for  he  was  almost  behind  her,  and  as  she 
did  so  he  drew  her  head  back  and  began  kissing 
her.  She  tried  to  draw  away,  but  he  hardly  recog- 
nised himself;  he  held  her  tensely;  he  would  not 
let  her  move. 

"Kiss  me,"  he  cried  imperiously,  "you  did.  In 
the  dungeon,"  and  almost  without  her  will,  her 
lips  gave  themselves  to  him  and  her  eyes  as  well. 
Again  and  again  he  kissed  her,  pushing  back  her 
face  to  see  the  beauty  of  it,  then  kissing  her  again 
and  again  hungrily. 

"You  do  love  me,"  she  whispered,  looking  at 
him. 

"You  know  I  do." 

"He  is  coming,"  she  said  after  a  moment,  "he 
is  coming,"  and  she  lifted  her  face  up  and  kissed 
him  of  her  own  accord  hurriedly. 

The  next  moment  they  heard  the  Colonel's  foot- 
steps in  the  hall  and  started  apart. 

"That  Chichet  makes  mountains  out  of  mole- 
hills," cried  the  Colonel  hotly. 

"What  was  it?"  said  Jack. 

"The  soup  was  burnt  a  little,  but  nothing  that 
anyone  couldn't  eat,  so  I  told  the  fellow  if  he 
didn't  like  it  he  could  go  without  and  he  quickly 
made  up  his  mind  to  enjoy  what  he  could  get." 

162 


Great  Days 

Jack  and  Suzanne  caught  themselves  smiling  de- 
liciously;  for  a  moment  their  eyes  had  met;  each 
understood  what  the  other  was  thinking;  they, 
too,  had  enjoyed  what  they  could  get. 


163 


CHAPTER  IX 

THEN  began  for  Jack  and  for  Suzanne  a 
series  of  unforgettable  experiences;  they 
were  like  two  highly  sensitised  plates  on  which 
the  slightest  variation  of  light  and  shade,  of 
warmth  or  cold  left  deep  impressions.  There 
were  continual  scenes  between  them.  In  fact, 
there  was  such  tension  in  the  strings  that  the 
slightest  touch  rang  in  music  or  shrilled  in  dis- 
cord. 

One  day  Jack  came  in  quickly  and  found 
Suzanne  talking  at  the  door  of  the  parlour  to  a 
sous-officier  named  Lairolle ;  he  had  never  noticed 
the  fellow  before,  but  now  he  saw  that  Lairolle 
jwas  very  attractive  in  an  animal  full-blooded  way, 
a  big  fellow  with  good  features,  long  fair  mous- 
taches and  large  brown  eyes  alight  with  life  and 
vigour. 

Suzanne  turned  to  Jack  at  once  with  a  smile, 
but  he  could  have  sworn  she  had  been  giving  her 
eyes  at  least  to  Lairolle  and  he  was  furious.  The 
fellow  was  devouring  her  with  bold  admiring 
gaze — stripping  her.     Jack  felt  it  like  a  desecra- 

164 


Great  Days 

tlon  and  his  blood  boiled.  He  wanted  to  insult 
him,  but  could  find  nothing  to  say.  As  Suzanne: 
turned  to  Jack  smiling  Lairolle  said: 

"Eh  bien;  Mademoiselle;  ga  se  fera,  j'y  veil- 
lerai"  (I  '11  see  to  it)  and  he  was  gone. 

Suzanne's  smile  vanished  when  she  saw  Jack 
glowering : 

"What's  the  matter,  Jack?"  she  cried  in  aston- 
ishment, "aren't  you  well?" 

"I'm  all  right,"  he  said  sulkily,  thinking  her 
unconsciousness  put  on. 

"You're  not  nice  to-day,"  she  said. 

"Not  so  nice  as  Lairolle,  eh?" 

She  got  angry  at  once :  "What  do  you  mean — 
Lairolle?     You  must  be  mad." 

"No,"  he  retorted,  "but  I  have  eyes  in  my  head 
and  I  saw." 

"You  saw  nothing,"  she  cried  flaming,  "noth- 
ing; do  you  hear?  You're  telling  lies.  There 
was  nothing  to  see,"  she  added  disdainfully,  turn- 
ing away. 

Her  indignation  showed  him  that  she  was  tell- 
ing the  truth  and  already  to  his  surprise  his  anger 
had  nearly  ebbed  away,  but  still  he  felt  injured,  he; 
hardly  knew  why. 

"What  were  you  talking  to  Lairolle  for?  He's, 
only  a  sous-officier." 

165 


Great  Days 

"That's  my  business,"  she  retorted,  "you  have 
no  right  to  question  me." 

"As  you  like,"  he  replied  shortly,  "when  you 
see  me  making  eyes  at  a  pretty  girl,  you'll  perhaps 
get  the  same  answer." 

"Oh,  how  stupid  you  are,"  she  said,  stamping 
her  foot  and  flushing.  "I  was  only  asking  him," 
she  burst  out,  "but — I  won't  tell  you,"  she  broke 
off,  "you  make  me  ashamed,"  and  she  turned 
away,  her  breast  heaving. 

"Do  tell  me,"  he  pleaded,  taking  her  into  his 
arms,  "I  want  to  know."  Then,  seeing  the  big 
tears  in  her  eyes,  he  cried  repentant,  "Oh  I'm 
sorry,  I'm  sorry — forgive  me." 

"I  was  only  asking  him,"  she  said,  choking 
down  her  sobs,  "to  get  some  fireworks  for  your 
birthday,  and  you  get  cross;  and  I  don't  know 
what  I  have  done;  you  make  me  miserable." 

"Oh,  I'm  sorry,"  he  cried.  "Shall  I  go  on  my 
knees  and  beg  pardon?"  and  he  went  on  his  knees 
at  once  and  stretched  his  arms  up  to  her. 

He  looked  so  funny  and  she  was  so  relieved 
to  think  it  was  all  nothing  and  he  did  care  for 
her  that  she  burst  out  laughing  through  her  tears 
and  he  drew  her  down  and  she  stooped  and  kissed 
him  and  left  sticky  wet  drops  on  his  forehead 
which  he  tried  to  shake  into  his  mouth  by  way 

166 


Great  Days 

of  penance.  Suzanne  laughed  again  at  this  and 
shook  away  her  tears  and  peace  was  made. 

The  reconcihatlon  was  completed  by  kisses  and 
promises  of  love.  Jack  took  completer  posses- 
sion of  her  than  before,  for  he  confessed  to  her 
that  he  was  very  jealous  and  that  when  he  was 
jealous  it  was  like  having  a  thorn  in  his  foot, 
which  he  couldn't  get  at,  but  which  she  must  take 
out  at  once. 

Suzanne  listened  with  big  eyes  approving: 
"If  it  is  only  jealousy,  I'll  soon  cure  that,"  she 
cried  deliciously  pleased,  "but  you  frightened  me ; 
I  thought  you  disliked  me  and  it  hurt  so ;  I  thought 
you  were  only  making  a  pretext  of  LairoUe,  for 
I  don't  care  for  him  at  all;  he  doesn't  exist  for 
me,  and  that  made  me  angry." 

And  again  and  again  she  gave  her  lips. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  the  jealous  mis- 
understandings were  all  on  Jack's  side;  though,  as 
there  were  no  girls  in  the  prison  and  many  men, 
there  were  more  occasions  for  his  discontent. 

One  evening  they  went  to  the  theatre  to  hear 
a  play  of  Corneille,  Polyeucte,  and  the  heroine  was 
the  famous  actress  Mademoiselle  Clairon;  Jack 
thought  her  wonderful  with  a  beautiful  face  as 
expressive  as  her  voice.  She  threw  such  passion 
into   her   lovemaking  that   she   swept  the   youth 

167 


Great  Days 

away.  In  the  prison  scene,  when  the  heroine  is 
converted  by  her  lover  and  becomes  a  Christian, 
Jack's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

Suzanne  had  been  a  little  annoyed  by  the  warmth 
of  his  admiration  for  Mademoiselle  Clairon  and 
had  been  watching  him.  When  she  saw  his  rapt 
face  her  heart  grew  cold  as  lead;  she  felt  that 
Clairon  was  only  acting,  that  it  was  the  beautiful 
words  which  gave  her  such  power;  she  wished 
she  could  say  such  things,  but  she  couldn't;  she 
felt  very  stupid  and  that  made  her  angry.  Then 
she  noticed  Mademoiselle  Clairon's  make-up  and 
saw  that  her  figure  had  grown  heavy.  "She  was 
old,  old,"  she  said  to  herself,  "forty  or  forty-two 
at  least,  and  if  the  make-up  were  washed  off  she 
would  be  all  wrinkly  and  have  crows'  feet  round 
her  eyes  and  skin  like  a  plucked  fowl." 

Just  then  she  caught  Jack  staring  In  admiration 
and  she  burst  out  laughing.  He  turned  crossly 
to  her  with  a  question  In  his  face,  and  she  retorted 
wickedly : 

"Is  It  her  crows'  feet  or  her  double  chin  you 
admire?"  At  heart  she  was  defiant,  contemptu- 
ous.    But  Jack  didn't  understand. 

"She's  wonderful,"  he  cried.  "I  don't  see  any 
crows'  feet  and  her  voice  is  music " 

When  they  got  home  and  the  Colonel  went  in 

168 


Great  Days 

to  change  his  boots  and  his  uniform  Jack  tried 
to  kiss  Suzanne, 

"No,  no,"  she  exclaimed,  pushing  him  off  and 
looking  at  him  with  critical,  hard  eyes.  "I'm  tired, 
don't  worry  me.  I  don't  want  to  kiss,"  and  she 
turned  her  head  away. 

"What  is  it?"  he  cried  in  surprise. 

"Nothing,"  she  answered  wearily,  disdainfully. 
"I'm  a  little  tired;  that's  all." 

He  hadn't  sympathy  enough  to  understand  a 
jealousy  that  was  silent  because  it  was  of  the  heart 
and  not  of  the  senses  and  brought  with  it  a  feel- 
ing of  humiliation  that  intensified  the  suffering. 

"What  Is  it,  dear?"  he  asked,  again  distressed 
by  her  coldness,  not  even  dreaming  of  any  jealousy 
on  her  part,  for  Mademoiselle  Clairon  had  only 
spoken  to  his  brain  and  artistic  feeling  and  not 
at  all  to  his  desire. 

But  Suzanne  looked  at  him  out  of  hard,  expres- 
sionless eyes  and  said  nothing.  Jack  was  really 
distressed  at  her  angry  obstinate  silence. 

Just  then  the  Colonel  came  in  full  of  the  per- 
formance, which  he  considered  excellent. 

"Extraordinary,"  cried  tactless  Jack,  agreeing 
with  him.  "Clairon  spoke  with  such  passion,  she 
made  one's  heart  beat." 

Suzanne  could  stand  no  more.    She  was  tingling 

169 


Great  Days 

with  indignation.  Clairon  was  old,  old  and  ugly; 
he  was  a  fool;  she  had  had  too  much  of  It;  she 
couldn't  care  for  anyone  so  stupid  as  to  fall  into 
ecstasy  over  an  old  painted  hag. 

"I'm  tired,  I'm  going  to  bed,"  she  said  listlessly 
in  a  toneless  voice. 

"All  right,"  said  her  uncle,  unheeding,  kissing 
her,  "a  good  night's  sleep  will  set  you  up  again," 
and  he  let  her  go. 

She  just  nodded  to  Jack  and  went.  But  Jack 
could  not  let  it  end  there;  as  he  sat  and  thought 
of  her  weary  pale  face  his  heart  contracted;  had 
he  done  anything  wrong?  What  was  the  matter? 
Could  she  be  angry  with  his  praise  of  Mademoi- 
selle Clairon?     Impossible,  but 

What  excuse  could  he  make  to  see  her. 

"I  think  Mademoiselle  should  have  her 
bouillon;  do  you  think  I  might  take  it  up  to 
her?" 

"If  you  like,"  replied  the  Colonel  yawning, 
evidently  surprised,  "but  she  said  she  was  not 
hungry." 

Jack  seized  the  thick  cup  and  went  upstairs 
and  knocked  at  the  door.  It  was  opened  almost 
immediately  by  Suzanne,  who,  as  he  could  see  by 
the  dim  light  of  the  candle,  had  not  taken  her 
things  off. 

170 


Great  Days 


«ii 


'I  brought  you  your  bouillon,"  he  cried,  "you 
really  must  take  It;  you  look  very  tired." 

"Thanks,"  she  said  in  a  toneless  voice,  "but 
I  don't  want  it." 

Jack  put  the  cup  down  at  once  on  the  floor  and 
ventured  to  step  into  the  room  and  take  her  in 
his  arms.     "What  is  it?"  he  whispered. 

"Nothing,"  she  replied,  as  if  surprised. 

"But  there  must  be  something,"  he  went  on, 
"and  I  love  you  so  I  couldn't  sleep  while  you  are 
so  changed." 

She  looked  at  him,  considering  him. 

"You  know  that,"  he  cried,  "if  you're  not  happy 
my  love  makes  me  miserable;  come,  naughty; 
what  is  it?     The  thorn?" 

"Oh  no,  no,"  she  said,  all  the  more  determined 
to  conceal  her  feeling,  now  that  she  began  to  think 
it  was  perhaps  not  justified.  "I'm  very  tired, 
that's  all;  I  don't  know  why." 

In  spite  of  the  repetition  of  "tired"  Jack  felt 
she  was  thawing  and  kept  on  caressing  and  assur- 
ing her  of  his  love.  At  length  he  found  the  right 
note. 

"You  were  looking  so  well  this  evening,"  he 
said,  "when  we  first  went  to  the  Theatre,  radiant, 
with  that  pretty  lace  thing  round  your  face, 
lovely." 

171 


Great  Days 

"Did  you  think  so?"  she  asked  and  as  by  a 
miracle  the  colour  flooded  her  cheeks  again  and 
her  eyes  grew  bright. 

"Of  course,"  replied  Jack,  kissing  her,  "you 
know  you're  the  loveliest  girl  alive — better 
dressed,  too,  than  anyone." 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said,  with  an  air  of  thoughtful 
fairness,  "Mademoiselle  Clairon's  dress  in  the 
third  act  as  the  Emperor's  daughter  was  superb; 
it  gave  her  distinction,  elegance." 

"She  never  had  your  eyes,  or  skin  or  mouth," 
cried  Jack  with  love's  cunning,  kissing  her  again. 
And  now  she  kissed  him  in  return  with  clinging 
tenderness,  yielding  herself  to  him.  The  truth 
was  that  in  the  revulsion  of  feeling  from  loss  and 
loneliness  to  possession  and  joy  she  thought  of 
him  for  the  first  time  as  her  very  own,  her  man, 
her  lover,  and  at  once  her  lips  grew  hot,  and  at 
the  thought  that  he  must  notice  it  she  hid  her  face 
on  his  shoulder  in  confusion.  But  her  soft  kiss 
had  set  him  aflame,  though  he  did  not  realise  the 
reason,  and  with  one  arm  round  her  waist  and 
the  other  round  her  neck  he  held  her  to  him, 
kissing  her  again  and  again. 

Suddenly  they  heard  the  Colonel's  voice  from 
below:  "Why  don't  you  come  down?"  he  said 
sharply.     "Let  Suzanne  go  to  sleep." 

172 


Great  Days 

In  silence  Jack  pressed  the  cup  into  her  hand 
and  she  drank  now  at  once,  putting  her  other  hand 
on  his  with  a  gesture  of  ineffable  tenderness.  As 
he  took  the  cup  he  bent  his  head  and  kissed  her 
breast  before  hurrying  downstairs. 

The  intercourse  with  Suzanne  was  a  perpetual 
education  for  Jack;  again  and  again  as  in  the  case 
of  Lairolle  he  was  astonished  by  her  unselfish 
thought  of  him.  Bit  by  bit  he  was  simply  forced 
to  the  conclusion  that,  just  as  his  love  was  made 
up  of  three  parts  desire  and  one  part  affection, 
hers  was  made  up  of  three  parts  tenderness  and 
one  part  passion.  He  came  to  realise  that  in  all 
the  offices  of  love  she  was  easily,  completely  his 
superior:  he  wouldn't  admit  it  to  himself,  but  in 
the  back  of  his  mind  he  was  always  sure  of  it,  and 
this  consciousness  that  she  was  continually  think- 
ing of  him  and  his  well-being  made  it  increasingly 
easy  for  him  to  forgive  her  outbursts  of  temper. 
She  was  astonishingly  vain  and  quick-tempered, 
but  her  anger  soon  blew  over  or  talked  itself  out, 
and  she  never  sulked  or  bore  malice;  seemed  in- 
capable indeed  of  even  remembering  injuries.  She 
was  an  amusing  companion,  too,  always  vivid  and 
gay,  and  as  observant  as  she  was  irreflective,  with 
an  astonishing  fund  of  common-sense  and  sober 
prudence  that  translated  themselves  into  all  sorts 

173 


Great  Days 

of  quaint  proverbial  expressions — the  small  cur- 
rency of  intelligence. 

When  it  came  to  staying  up  late  at  a  dance  or 
drinking  a  glass  extra  of  champagne  "Bah"  she 
would  cry,  "une  fois  n'est  pas  coutume."  Consol- 
ing phrases,  ripe  fruits  of  experience,  were  always 
in  her  mouth:  "work  brings  health:  saving 
wealth,"  and,  above  all:  "luck  and  ill-luck:  sun- 
shine and  shower  ripen  the  corn." 

Jack's  self-tormenting,  inquisitive  mind  was  as 
foreign  to  her  as  his  ever  present  desire.  She  was 
as  normal,  healthy,  as  he  was  abnormal  and  pas- 
sionate. The  promiscuity  of  the  house,  the  in- 
cessant intercourse  tempted  him  continually:  the 
presence  of  her  uncle  even  was  an  additional 
sting.  The  three  were  perhaps  together  talking 
when  the  Colonel  would  be  called  away  on  some 
question  of  the  prison:  at  once  Jack  would  take 
Suzanne  in  his  arms  and  begin  kissing  and  fond- 
ling her.  The  Colonel  would  return,  and  the  pair 
had  to  separate  and  pretend  to  be  talking  hke  a 
brother  and  sister  would  talk. 

If  Jack  were  reading  in  the  parlour  Suzanne 
would  hurry  in  and  kiss  him;  if  she  passed  him 
on  the  way  to  the  market  or  returning  he  would 
seize  and  kiss  her;  sitting  opposite  each  other  at 
table  their  feet  sought  each  other's  inevitably. 

174 


Great  Days 

Gradually  as  she  taught  him  tenderness  he 
a\vakened  her  passion.  The  truth  was  the  kiss 
she  had  given  him  that  night  after  the  theatre  in 
her  bedroom  was  always  in  his  mind.  He  could 
never  be  satisfied,  he  felt,  till  he  could  get  her  to 
kiss  him  like  that  again. 

But  for  a  long  time  he  could  not  find  the  way  to 
his  desire.  He  tried  to  excite  her  by  kissing  and 
caressing  her,  and  was  vaguely  disappointed  with 
the  result,  a  little  hurt  by  her  self-control.  It  was 
chance  helped  him  to  better  knowledge.  Return- 
ing from  a  drive  one  day  they  were  stopped  at  the 
octroi,  and  while  waiting  to  be  allowed  to  pass 
they  were  approached  by  some  beggars — a  man 
and  wife  with  a  young  baby:  they  were  all  ema- 
ciated, starving,  woe-begone.  Suzanne  gave  all 
she  had,  a  couple  of  francs,  to  the  mother:  Jack 
asked  the  man  why  he  didn't  work?  He  replied 
that  he  had  had  to  pawn  all  his  carpenter's  tools 
to  get  bread,  and  now  could  not  get  work  at  his 
trade  without  tools. 

"How  much  does  a  set  of  tools  cost?"  asked 
Jack. 

"At  least  a  hundred  francs,"  replied  the  man 
with  despairing  eyes,  "with  tools  I  could  soon  get 
out  of  this  misery":  he  scarcely  dared  even  to 
hope. 

175 


Great  Days 

"Here  are  the  hundred  francs,"  replied  Jack, 
handing  him  the  money.  The  man  burst  into 
tears,  the  wife  tried  to  kiss  Jack's  hand.  .  .  . 

As  soon  as  the  carriage  was  through  the  octroi 
and  moving  along  the  road  Suzanne  turned  to 
Jack  and  flung  her  arms  round  his  neck: 

"You  great  Jack,"  she  cried;   "I  love  you." 

And  as  their  lips  met  he  realised  at  once  that 
she  was  kissing  him  again  with  real  passion,  as 
she  had  kissed  him  in  the  bedroom.  The  way  to 
her  senses  was  through  her  heart.  He  soon  dis- 
covered that  every  time  he  moved  her  to  admira- 
tion by  some  generosity  or  to  sympathy  by  some 
tender  unselfishness  or  even  gratified  her  vanity 
by  some  far-fetched  praise,  she  rewarded  him 
with  a  more  complete  abandonment.  At  length 
he  had  found  the  key:  love  in  her  was  more  of 
the  spirit  than  of  the  body. 

Suzanne  was  even  quicker  to  solve  the  enigma 
of  sex  as  it  presented  itself  to  her.  At  first  she 
believed  that  all  she  had  to  do  to  win  him  was  to 
give  herself  to  him  completely.  But  she  soon  dis- 
covered that  by  withholding  herself  and  giving  a 
little  she  increased  his  desire.  With  all  a  French- 
woman's instinctive  quickness  and  resolve  to  win 
sovereignty  over  her  lover  Suzanne  studied  Jack 
and  soon  realised  that  he  cared  most  for  her  when 

176 


Great  Days 

she  was  at  her  proudest,  coldest  and  most  indif- 
ferent. He  loved  to  win  her  anew  at  each  meet- 
ing, and  desired  her  most  when  she  showed  him 
some  unexpected  beauty  of  figure  or  of  colouring. 
The  way  to  his  heart  was  through  his  sense  of 
beauty  and  his  passionate  desire.  Every  time  she 
yielded  something  to  him  she  did  it  as  if  reluc- 
tantly, and  she  was  aware  of  an  increase  of  ten- 
derness on  his  part  and  of  passion  in  herself.  It 
was  ineffably  sweet  to  her  to  be  able  to  call  forth 
his  desire  at  will;  it  gave  her  a  sense  of  power 
that  gratified  the  inmost  fibres  of  her  vanity.  So 
they  came  nearer  the  supreme  moment  day  by  day. 

One  evening  Suzanne  was  a  little  out  of  temper, 
and  Jack  had  found  it  difficult  to  win  her  and  ease 
the  tension:  they  were  never  long  enough  alone, 
he  said  to  himself  bitterly. 

Before  he  could  make  up  his  mind  what  to  do 
Suzanne  said  "Good-night"  indifferently  and  went 
upstairs.  The  Colonel  followed  what  he  called 
"the  good  example,"  and  perforce  Jack,  too,  had 
to  go  to  bed.  From  his  room  Jack  could  hear 
Suzanne  moving  about  for  a  long  time;  her  little 
feet  seemed  to  be  walking  on  his  heart.  He  pic- 
tured her  undressing  and  re-lived  again  those  mo- 
ments of  their  life  together  which  had  marked 
stages  in  their  increasing  intimacy;   again  he  saw 

177 


Great  Days 

her  lift  the  lantern  above  her  head  and  her  short 
sleeve  fall  back  revealing  the  white  beauty  of  her 
arm;  again  he  saw  her  thrown  back  in  the  car- 
riage and  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  limbs,  or  he 
pictured  her  at  some  dance:  she  was  as  lissom, 
slender,  he  said  to  himself,  as  a  willow  wand,  and 
when  you  strip  off  the  rough  bark  you  have  a  most 
delicate,  smooth,  shining  whiteness  beneath:  his 
breath  came  heavily:  he  was  all  pulses,  throb- 
bing; his  mouth  parched:  without  conscious  pur- 
pose he  took  off  his  boots  and  opened  his  door: 
all  dark:  he  closed  his  door  behind  him  and  went 
softly  up  the  stairs.  At  her  door  he  stopped  and 
listened — nothing:  he  couldn't  knock.  A  long 
time  he  stood,  then  he  heard  her  turn  restlessly: 
she  was  in  bed:  he  gasped  for  breath  and  just 
touched  the  door:  no  sound.  After  waiting  a 
little  he  tapped  with  one  finger  almost  noiselessly 
and  waited  again:  nothing:  his  heart  sank:  he 
put  up  his  hand  to  tap  louder  and  the  door  was 
not  there;  it  had  opened  noiselessly  and  then  he 
distinguished  the  white  outline  of  her.  He 
stepped  inside  and  took  her  in  his  arms: 

"You  must  not,"  she  breathed. 

But  he  felt  her  warm,  soft  body  through  the 
nightdress  and,  gathering  her  in  his  strong  young 
arms,  he  bore  her  to  the  bed: 

178 


Great  Days 

"No,  no,"  she  whispered;  but  his  lips  were  on 
hers  and,  with  a  long  sigh,  she  gave  herself  to  his 
embrace.  .  .  . 

The  days  that  followed  were  like  mornings  in 
mid-summer — the  freshness  of  virgin  feelings,  the 
heat  of  maturity.  Strange  to  say  it  was  Suzanne 
who  was  most  changed:  she  had  no  temper  now, 
no  sharp  answers;  her  very  being  seemed  dis- 
solved in  tenderness;  her  eyes  followed  Jack 
about  in  shy  content;  the  Colonel  must  have  no- 
ticed the  change  in  her  had  time  been  given  him. 

But  in  the  first  blush  of  their  happiness  came  a 
letter  from  Jack's  father  telling  him  if  he  didn't 
return  soon  he  would  never  see  his  mother  alive. 
It  was  as  if  an  earthquake  had  shaken  him  out 
of  a  delicious  dream,  harshest  reality  sharpened 
by  self-reproach.  It  was  time  to  act,  not  loiter,  he 
felt,  and  he  dismissed  his  self-accusations  for  the 
moment.  He  must  get  away:  who  would  help 
him?  It  was  curious  that  he  first  thought  of  the 
Doctor:  Sauvan  was  so  cool,  so  reasonable  that 
Jack  exaggerated  the  value  of  his  counsel.  He 
sought  him  out,  but  the  Doctor  had  no  sympathy 
to  waste  on  others:  he  felt  that  Jack's  affection 
and  anxiety  were  extravagant;  mothers  usually 
died    first;     he    recommended    him    to    see    the 

179 


Great  Days 

Colonel;  the  Colonel  could  help  him  if  anyone 
could,  for  he  knew  Bonaparte,  and  Bonaparte 
since  his  return  from  Egypt  was  all-powerful  in 
France. 

Chilled  and  rebuffed  by  the  Doctor's  coolness, 
Jack  made  up  his  mind  to  see  Suzanne.  He  trans- 
lated the  letter  to  her  and  found  all  the  sympathy 
he  desired. 

"Uncle  will  write  to  Bonaparte,"  she  said,  "and 
he  will  get  your  freedom:  you  must  go  back." 
She  grew  white  with  apprehension  as  she  realised 
how  completely  they  would  be  separated,  but  she 
still  held  to  her  idea. 

At  once  they  sought  out  the  Colonel  and  laid  it 
before  him.  He  declared  that  he  would  write  to 
Bonaparte  at  once,  and  that  he  felt  sure  of  the  re- 
sult. And  he  wrote  to  Bonaparte  without  more 
ado,  praying  him  under  the  circumstances  to  give 
Jack  his  exchange. 

As  the  letter  remained  for  a  week  unanswered 
Jack's  anxiety  became  painful.  The  Colonel  was 
as  sympathetic  as  possible:  he  wrote  to  the  au- 
thorities proposing  to  let  Jack  go  to  London  to 
negotiate  an  exchange  with  some  French  officer 
whom  the  French  authorities  should  select,  and  if 
that  was  impossible  he  asked  that  he  might  be 
allowed  to  free  him,  taking  his  parole  that  he 

180 


Great  Days 

would  return  in  six  months  if  he  couldn't  make 
any  exchange;  and  when  this  letter  remained  un- 
answered for  a  week  or  so,  he  put  a  period  to 
Jack's  anguish  by  saying  that  if  he  didn't  receive 
an  answer  in  another  week  he  would  take  the  re- 
sponsibility on  himself  and  let  Jack  go.  Jack  im- 
mediately packed  and  made  ready,  and  Suzanne 
helped  him.  Often  as  they  put  some  things  to- 
gether her  eyes  would  fill  with  tears,  and  Jack 
would  take  her  in  his  arms  and  kiss  her  and  com- 
fort her,  and  tell  her  how  kind  his  mother  had 
been  to  him;  how  kind  to  everyone;  how  good 
she  was :  and  the  two  young  things  would  hold 
each  other  and  kiss  with  wet  eyes.  It  was  Su- 
zanne's perfect  sympathy  in  his  distress  which  won 
Jack  completely. 

Without  telling  Jack  Suzanne  went  to  her  uncle 
and  begged  him  to  let  Jack  go  without  further 
delay,  persuaded  him  even  to  accompany  Jack  to 
Boulogne  and  put  him  on  a  vessel  for  England; 
and  next  morning  the  Colonel  told  Jack  that  he 
could  go,  on  his  parole  to  return  within  six  months. 

Jack  had  only  time  to  see  Suzanne  for  a  mo- 
ment: he  held  her  in  his  arms  and  promised  that 
in  all  cases  before  six  months  he  would  be  back 
again.  With  wet  eyes  she  nodded  that  she  was 
sure  of  it,  and  the  two  parted. 

181 


BOOK  II 
CHAPTER  I 

THEY  took  six  or  seven  days  to  get  to  Bou- 
logne, and  after  the  first  day  Jack  found 
he  could  pass  muster  as  a  Frenchman  among  un- 
educated people.  He  was  dressed  more  or  less  In 
French  fashion,  and  his  accent  In  ordinary  con- 
versation was  fairly  good;  but  when  he  left  the 
phrases  of  constant  use,  his  accent  suffered  with 
his  grammar. 

At  Boulogne  Jack  soon  discovered  in  the  port 
an  English  smuggler  who  undertook  for  ten 
pounds  to  land  him  at  Dover.  He  was  astonished 
to  find  on  parting  with  Caressa  how  he  had  come 
to  like  the  warm-hearted  little  man.  The  Colonel 
embraced  him  on  both  cheeks  and  Jack  hugged 
the  Colonel  just  as  heartily. 

"I  don't  need  to  promise  you,"  said  Jack,  "that 
I  shall  be  back  within  the  six  months,"  and  the 
Colonel  nodded  contentedly. 

183 


Great  Days 

Before  Jack  had  been  an  hour  on  board  the 
smuggler  he  was  thankful  for  the  fair  wind. 

The  cabin  where  they  took  their  meals  was 
dirty  to  a  degree  and  alive  with  vermin.  Jack 
was  glad  to  get  out  of  it,  and  for  the  rest  of  the 
passage  stood  by  the  weather  bulwarks  lost  in  his 
own  thoughts  and  fears. 

At  Dover  he  got  a  carriole,  and  in  two  hours 
was  ratthng  over  the  rough  Head.  At  a  turn  in 
the  road,  where  the  lands  of  The  Court  began, 
he  could  see  Hurstpoint  Bay  and  the  village  in 
the  light.  Again  he  was  struck  with  it  as  with  a 
little  picture:  it  was  exactly  like  a  painted  vil- 
lage and  bay:  the  quiet  of  it  all,  the  peace  made 
an  extraordinary  impression  on  him.  .  .  .  He 
had  left  the  place  a  boy:  he  was  coming  back  as 
a  man.  Would  the  people  see  how  he  had  al- 
tered? He  would  be  naturally  the  first  man  in  the 
village  he  thought:  he  knew  so  much  more  than 
the  others  did.  Suddenly  his  vanity  was  hushed: 
was  his  mother  very  ill?  The  apprehension  grew 
on  him. 

When  they  came  in  front  of  the  Inn  his  heart 
was  hke  lead.  As  he  jumped  out  of  the  carriole 
a  little  man  came  to  the  door  dressed  all  in  black. 
The  clothes  made  him  unfamiliar:   Jack  started: 

184 


Great  Days 

it  was  his  father;  he  seemed  to  see  him  for  the 
first  time :  he  looked  an  old  man ;  must  be  sixty, 
thought  Jack;  sturdy  still  and  strong,  but  the  skin 
round  the  eyes  puckered,  wrinkled;  he  was  no- 
ticeably lame,  too,  and  had  grown  a  little  stout, 
perhaps  because  of  the  lameness.  All  these 
thoughts  and  a  hundred  more  rushed  through  his 
mind  as  he  jumped  out  and  took  his  father's  hand. 

"Too  late;   she  was  buried  three  days  ago." 

Jack's  being  seemed  to  stop : 

"Impossible  1"  he  cried:  he  couldn't  realise  that 
his  mother  had  gone  out  of  his  life  foreve  ;  it 
seemed  unthinkable. 

"A  good  wife,"  said  his  father  with  unwonted 
emotion,  "and  a  good  mother.  Jack." 

Jack  couldn't  trust  himself  to  answer;  mem- 
ories of  all  her  sweetness,  amiability  and  gentle- 
ness coming  over  him  in  a  flood. 

In  the  parlour  he  listened  to  what  his  father 
had  to  tell  him  of  the  last  illness.  He  learned 
that  she  died  quite  peacefully,  composing  herself 
to  sleep  by  saying  that  perhaps  when  she  woke 
Jack  would  be  there — "I  know  he's  coming,"  she 
had  said  again  and  again. 

A  little  later  his  sister  came  in.  Jack  was  as- 
tonished to  find  her  quite  grown  up,  rather  pretty, 
and  very  affected  with  all  sorts  of  society  manner- 

185 


Great  Days 

isms;  in  fact,  she  had  become  a  new  person  whom 
Jack  had  to  get  to  know  and  for  some  time  he 
found  it  difficult  to  accustom  himself  to  the 
change. 

With  the  love  of  learning  which  seems  inborn 
in  the  Celt,  Morgan  had  sent  his  daughter  to  the 
best  boarding  school  he  could  hear  of  in  London, 
regardless  of  expense,  and  the  girl  had  returned 
home  with  all  the  prejudices,  beliefs  and  habits  of 
select  society.  Her  dress  seemed  to  Jack  indecent, 
though  it  was  more  modest  than  the  usual  London 
fashion;  it  was  cut  so  as  to  show  the  breasts  and 
Emily  had  a  very  pretty  fair  skin.  She  talked 
familiarly  of  "men  of  fashion"  and  of  "Cecil" 
in  the  same  breath,  so  that  Jack  had  a  little  diffi- 
culty in  picturing  Cecil  Barron  in  the  new  role. 
When  questioned  about  him  she  said  he  was 
"good  style,"  with  a  patronising  air  which  Jack 
felt  to  be  a  little  comic. 

While  he  was  talking  to  his  sister  his  father 
went  out  and  brought  in  Nancy.  She,  too,  had 
changed:  had  become  a  sort  of  village  beauty, 
rather  full-blown.  Jack  thought.  She  didn't  seem 
as  merry  as  of  old,  though  she  could  still  laugh, 
and  her  sauciness  had  a  tinge  of  assurance  that 
made  it  almost  boldness.  Jack  saw  at  a  glance 
now  that  the  secret  of  her  success  was  probably  the 

186 


Great  Days 

ever-present  sense  of  sex  In  her.  Men  were  men 
to  Nancy,  and  she  reminded  everyone  of  them 
that  she  was  a  woman. 

While  his  sister  went  up  to  change  Jack  went 
out  into  the  bar  and  kitchen,  and  was  amazed  to 
find  how  the  proportions  of  everything  had  al- 
tered. It  was  not  only  that  the  rooms  were 
smaller  than  he  had  thought  them;  but  they  were 
quite  different.  He  was  struck  by  the  lowness  of 
the  ceilings,  which  he  had  never  noticed  before; 
he  could  almost  touch  the  rafters  of  the  kitchen 
with  his  hand.  The  stairs,  which  had  seemed  so 
broad  to  him,  were  of  hardly  more  than  ordinary 
width.  The  space  in  front  of  the  bar  was  really 
made  larger  by  part  of  the  passage  which  gave 
access  immediately  to  the  kitchen.  He  hadn't  pic- 
tured it  in  this  way.  It  took  him  a  day  or  two  to 
get  accustomed  to  the  new  perspective. 

He  was  in  the  bar  one  afternoon  a  week  or  so 
later  talking  to  Nancy  when  a  big  showily  dressed 
fellow  lounged  in  with  a  great  swagger,  whom 
Jack  recognised  with  a  start  as  Crosby. 

"Hullo,  Master  Jack,"  he  cried,  "out  of  prison 
at  last?" 

The  air  was  patronising,  contemptuous;  but 
Jack  didn't  take  offence:  he  contented  himself 
with  a  nod  and  smile:    he  wondered  to  himself 

187 


Great  Days 

afterwards  why  he  was  glad  to  see  Crosby,  whom 
he  had  never  liked. 

"You  look  quite  a  Frenchman,"  Crosby  went 
on,  pointing  with  his  cane  disdainfully  at  Jack's 
sword. 

Jack  said  nothing. 

"Have  a  drink?"  was  Crosby's  next  question. 

"No,  thanks,"  replied  Jack  curtly,  turning  on 
his  heel  and  leaving  the  bar.  Crosby  exchanged 
a  smiling  glance  of  intelligence  with  Nancy  as  he 
took  off  his  hat  and  sat  down.  In  spite  of  some- 
thing antagonistic,  challenging,  in  Crosby's  man- 
ner, Jack  felt  that  he  was  intelligent  looking,  the 
forehead  broad  and  high,  the  eyes  large  and  dark 
— besides,  he  was  what  men  call  a  fine  figure, 
though  inclined  to  be  stout. 

Jack  met  his  sister  in  the  hall  dressed  for  a 
walk  in  a  toque  with  three  enormously  high 
feathers  like  fleurs  de  lis:  in  a  few  minutes  she 
had  told  him  all  he  wanted  to  know.  Crosby,  it 
seemed,  hadn't  done  as  well  at  Cambridge  as  had 
been  expected:  he  was  now  by  way  of  studying 
for  the  Bar  in  London,  but  was  content  to  spend 
a  great  part  of  his  time  in  the  village  and  a  good 
deal  of  it  in  the  Inn.  Clearly  Emily  didn't  think 
much  of  him. 

"And  Carrol?"  Jack  asked. 

188 


Great  Days 

"Carrol  is  quite  different,"  she  declared,  "a 
gentleman;  very  nice,  very  religious;  in  love  with 
poetry  and  vestments,  and  what  he  calls  'plain 
song';  he  often  asks  after  you,"  she  added  quietly. 

Suddenly,  as  they  walked  down  the  street,  they 
came  in  view  of  the  little  port. 

"That's  the  Dolphin  surely?"  cried  Jack. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  his  sister,  indifferently. 

"What  about  Riding  and  Knight?"  asked  Jack. 

"Oh,  they  came  back,"  said  his  sister,  "father 
told  you  all  about  that  in  his  second  letter." 

"I  never  received  it,"  cried  Jack.  "I  must  go 
and  see  Riding." 

His  sister  let  him  go  alone;  she  didn't  care, 
she  said  a  little  daintily,  for  the  Port,  though  she 
sometimes  went  to  see  Mrs.  Riding,  who  was  "a 
superior  person." 

As  Jack  went  down  the  hill  he  grinned  to  him- 
self. Mrs.  Riding  "a  person,"  Carrol  "a  gentle- 
man,'* Cecil  "a  man  of  high  fashion";  the  Lon- 
don school  had  turned  his  sister  into  a  snob  filled 
to  the  mouth  with  "nice  distinctions."  This  un- 
real hierarchy  and  its  claims  struck  him  with  con- 
tempt. In  a  short  time  he  was  to  recognise  this 
atmosphere  on  all  sides  of  him  as  the  English 
note;  a  false  standard,  of  values  guarded  reli- 
giouaif.     Surprised  by  it  here  for  the  first  time, 

189 


Great  Days 

he  shrugged  his  shoulders  disdainfully,  and  went 
on  the  more  eagerly  to  see  Riding. 

For  a  moment  or  two  he  hailed  the  Dolphin  in 
vain;  then  a  man  came  up  on  deck  and  at  once 
pulled  up  the  little  dinghy  and  rowed  her  ashore; 
it  was  Riding  himself. 

Jack  was  astonished  at  the  warmth  he  threw 
into  his  greeting;  he  was  delighted  to  shake  hands 
with  him,  eager  to  find  whether  his  old  kindly 
estimate  of  him  was  justified. 

"How  did  you  escape?"  he  cried,  and  Riding 
laughed:    "Ho!   Ho!   Ho!" 

Jack  smiled  at  the  familiar  shout. 

"The  French  were  very  kind,  but  I  thought  it 
better  to  swim,"  said  Riding,  "than  be  taken  on 
board  the  frigate." 

"And  Knight?"  cried  Jack. 

"Oh,  Knight  came,  too;  he  swims  like  an  eel; 
I  don't  believe  I'd  ever  have  landed  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  him.  I  was  tired  out,  and  he  helped  me 
on  shore;  then  I  talked  and  he  kept  quiet,  and 
with  that  money  of  yours  I  found  in  the  cabin  we 
got  along  famously.  Ho!  Ho!  Ho!"  he  laughed 
again. 

"Why  do  you  laugh?"  asked  Jack,  somewhat 
intrigued. 

"I  was  laughing,"  replied  Riding,  "because  in 

190 


Great  Days 

the  little  village  where  we  got  the  fishing  smack 
t04.-come  across  the  man  was  in  great  doubt 
whether  to  give  us  up  to  the  authorities  or  to  land 
us  on  the  English  coast.  But  when  I  made  it  clear 
to  him  that  he  would  get  a  thousand  francs  in  gold 
his  greed  overcame  his  patriotism.  I  laughed  at 
the  thought  of  his  face  when  he  was  considering 
whether  he  couldn't  get  the  money  and  give  us  up 
as  well." 

"And  Chips  and  Newton?"  cried  Jack. 

"Chips  has  started  that  building  yard  of  his," 
said  Riding,  "he's  doing  very  well:  and  Newton 
is  out  with  the  Alary.  We  captured  a  little 
French  ship  a  couple  of  months  ago  and  got  a  bit 
of  money  out  of  it.  Your  father  gives  us  a  quar- 
ter now  of  the  profits ;  makes  us  keen.  Ho!  Hoi 
Ho!   Ho!"    and  Riding  roared  again. 

"What  is  Newton  like?"  asked  Jack. 

"A  good  man,"  cried  Riding,  "a  very  fine 
fellow  and  first-rate  sailor." 

"And  Knight?"  asked  Jack. 

"My  second  self,"  replied  Riding,  "after  that 
swim  I  can't  part  from  him.  He's  a  great  glutton 
and  has  no  conscience,  but  he's  a  born  fighter — a 
sort  of  wolf-man.  Ho!  Ho!  Ho!"  and  again  he 
roared. 

The  great  laugh  no  longer  annoyed  Jack  as  of 

191 


Great  Days 

old.  He  began  to  see  that  it  was  partly  nervous, 
partly  the  trumpet,  so  to  speak,  of  a  keen  sense  of 
humour:  besides.  Riding's  characterisation  of 
Knight  was  astonishingly  true:  Jack,  too,  had 
caught  the  wolf  look  in  Knight's  lean,  pointed 
face,  prominent  great  ears  and  quick,  hot  eyes. 

In  his  turn  Riding  wanted  to  know  about  Gos- 
port,  Weetman  and  the  rest;  and  Jack  told  him 
in  a  short  time  very  summarily  all  about  the 
French  prison,  and  how  well  he  had  been  taken 
care  of,  and  what  friends  he  had  made  there. 
He  saw  at  once  that  Riding  understood  every- 
thing. He  noticed,  too,  for  the  first  time,  that 
Riding  was  good  looking,  with  broad  forehead, 
long,  fair  moustache  and  regular  features;  the 
thoughtful  eyes  alone  would  have  made  any  face 
attractive.  A  certain  natural  kindliness  seemed  to 
emanate  from  the  man.  It  was  with  warmer 
heart  through  having  met  him  that  Jack  took  his 
way  again  to  the  Inn. 

When  he  got  back  he  found  his  sister  talking 
to  a  very  handsome  man  of  just  over  middle 
height,  dressed  foppishly  in  the  extreme  of  fash- 
ion. Jack  was  rather  touched  to  find  that  Cecil 
Barron,  for  it  was  he,  met  him  with  a  great  deal 
of  friendliness  in  spite  of  a  marked  affectation. 

"My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "so  glad  to  meet 

192 


Great  Days 

you.  Your  sister  tells  me  you  have  had  all  sorts 
of  adventures,  and  have  managed  to  get  out  of  a 
French  prison  by  giving  your  parole  d'honneiir  to 
return  or  find  an  exchange.  Very  good  style  of 
them  I  must  say." 

Jack  smiled.  He  knew  now  where  his  sister 
had  got  her  love  of  "good  style"  from. 

"You  must  come  up  to  The  Court  and  tell  us 
all  about  It,"  Barron  continued  condescendingly; 
"we've  only  Nugent  and  Selwyn  staying  with  us, 
and  your  old  antagonist,  Myring,  comes  across 
now  and  then.  Would  you  bring  your  sister  and 
come  to-morrow  to  dinner? 

"It's  very  kind  of  you,"  replied  Jack,  hesitat- 
ing to  accept  what  he  felt  was  thought  to  be  a 
great  favour. 

Cecil  turned  to  Emily,  who  said : 

"We  should  like  to  very  much;  it's  very  good 
of  you" :  she  seemed  to  underline  the  words  with 
her  glance. 

Jack  noticed  with  interest  that  she  had  fine  eyes 
and  was  really  pretty,  and  Cecil  seemed  to  think 
so,  too. 

Somehow  or  other  Jack  felt  that  the  flirtation 
between  the  pair  had  gone  a  good  way,  and  this 
made  him  curious.  Had  Cecil  Barron  lost  any  of 
his  old  pride?     Would  he  really  marry  Emily? 

193 


Great  Days 

Remembering  hints  his  father  had  let  drop  he  be- 
gan to  think  that  he  might  do  worse :  Emily  was 
very  pretty:  but  vainglorious  pride  is  apt  to  be 
stubborn. 

As  Cecil  had  to  get  back,  Emily  and  Jack  went 
with  him  to  the  nearest  lodge  and  there  took 
leave,  strolling  back  together.  Jack  tried  to  pump 
his  sister,  but  could  get  nothing  out  of  her.  Sir 
George  Barron  was  very  feeble,  he  learned;  but 
Lady  Barron  still  reigned  at  The  Court. 

"What  is  the  girl  like?"  he  asked  at  length. 

"Margaret,"  Emily  said,  "is  very  peculiar: 
I  don't  think  her  pretty:  she's  standoffish: 
you  must  judge  for  yourself.  She's  eager  to  meet 
you,  I  think,  but  she's  about  a  great  deal  with 
Selwyn." 

Jack  could  get  nothing  more  out  of  her.  He 
wondered  that  night  whether  there  was  anything 
more  to  get. 

His  thoughts  ranged  over  all  the  different  per- 
sonalities. He  was  struck  most  perhaps  by  Rid- 
ing's sense  and  manliness  and  by  the  high-flown 
affectations  of  his  sister  and  Cecil  Barron.  What 
would  The  Court  be  like,  he  wondered;  and  his 
thoughts  wandered  back  to  his  boyhood  when  it 
was  such  a  great  distant  place;  thence  to  Suzanne 
and  the  old  Colonel  and  Sauvan  the  philosopher. 

194 


Great  Days 

He  was  astonished  to  find  that  the  little  Colonel 
and  Suzanne  were  as  near  and  dear  to  him  as  his 
own  people,  with  the  exception  of  his  father:  they 
were  as  natural,  as  human,  as  lovable 


195 


CHAPTER  II 

AS  the  next  day  happened  to  be  fine,  Emily 
thought  they  might  as  well  walk  to  The 
Court.  She  made  Jack  revise  his  dress:  she  in- 
sisted on  his  putting  on  a  great  cravat,  which  she 
wound  round  his  neck  many  times  and  tied  for 
him  in  the  mode  of  London.  Jack  laughed,  but 
met  her  views  as  far  as  he  could,  conscious  the 
while  that  the  rude  vigour  of  his  square  form  and 
resolute,  energetic  face  was  not  suited  by  finick- 
ing fashions. 

"Why  didn't  Barron  ask  father?"  enquired 
Jack,  as  they  came  to  the  lodge. 

"Oh,  father  would  be  quite  out  of  place  at  The 
Court,"  Emily  declared,  flushing;  "it  is  one  of 
the  county  seats;  it  was  very  good  of  Cecil  to  ask 
us,  and  we  simply  cannot  drag  father  about  with 
us  everywhere." 

"I  don't  see  why  not,"  replied  Jack,  sturdily, 
"he's  got  ten  times  as  much  in  him  as  Cecil  Bar- 
ron or  his  father,  and  he's  made  money  while  they 
have  lost  it." 

196 


Great  Days 

"Money  doesn't  count  with  rank,"  she  said, 
contemptuously,  "but  do  come  on  or  we  shall  be 
late." 

The  grounds  of  The  Court  were  more  beautiful 
than  Jack  had  imagined:  the  Park  was  fairly 
large,  five  or  six  hundred  acres,  and  the  house  it- 
self, though  not  stately  or  beautiful,  had  an  air 
about  it  of  dignity  and  comfort;  a  Queen  Anne 
house,  it  took  its  place  fittingly  among  the  old 
trees  and  broad  green  lawns  decked  with  flower- 
beds and  herbaceous  borders.  The  Court  was 
well  kept  up;  three  or  four  men-servants  in  liv- 
ery, the  Barron  livery  of  blue  with  yellow  lacings. 
Jack  was  astonished  to  find  that  the  quiet  defer- 
ence and  courteous  formalities  made  a  pleasant 
impression  on  him. 

In  the  drawing-room  Cecil  greeted  them  with 
warmth  and  introduced  Jack  to  Lady  Barron,  a 
very  large  matronly  person,  bright-eyed  and  fresh 
looking  in  spite  of  her  grey  hair.  Sir  George  Bar- 
ron, it  seemed,  was  ailing  and  could  not  come 
down. 

Jack  was  introduced,  too,  to  Colonel  Nugent,  a 
man  of  about  forty,  whom  he  remembered  just  as 
little  as  he  did  Lady  Barron;  and  then  to  a  Mr. 
Ivor  Selwyn,  another  exquisite,  dressed  as  elab- 
orately as  Cecil.    Selwyn  looked  at  him  with  hard 

197 


Great  Days 

brown  eyes,  and  just  nodded  to  the  introduction 
superciliously,  without  attempting  to  give  his 
hand.  Cecil  explained  to  his  mother  that  Jack 
had  just  been  let  out  of  a  French  prison  on  parole. 

Everyone  seemed  surprised  to  find  Frenchmen 
showing  such  humanity.  As  Jack  was  about  to 
defend  the  French,  the  talk  was  suspended  by  the 
entrance  of  Margaret  Barron.  She  shook  hands 
with  Colonel  Nugent  and  with  Selwyn,  and  then 
moved  to  Jack  and  held  out  her  hand: 

"It's  the  second  time  we've  been  introduced," 
she  said;  "I  remember  you  perfectly." 

At  the  first  moment  Jack  only  saw  that  she  was 
tall,  with  keen  eyes  and  abrupt  manner : 

"You've  been  in  prison  in  France :  haven't 
you?"  she  went  on  in  a  staccato  way  while  flushing 
slightly  as  if  embarrassed  by  her  own  curiosity. 

Jack  bowed  assent:  it  was  only  her  questioning 
blue  eyes  he  could  remember. 

"Interesting  it  must  have  been,"  she  jerked  out. 

Her  carriage  and  face  showed  pride  and  reso- 
lution, while  her  manner  and  way  of  speaking, 
Jack  thought,  had  a  restrained  eagerness  which  he 
couldn't  explain.  He  contented  himself  with  an- 
swering: 

"Very  Interesting." 

"Oh,  you  know  what  I  mean,"  she  said  Impa- 

198 


Great  Days 

tiently,  evidently  realising  that  he  hadn't  under- 
stood her  exact  meaning;  "not  only  the  people  dif- 
ferent: but  the  circumstances,  the  revolution,  the 
cruelties,  the  war — everything.  Such  a  lot  to  see 
and  understand,  wasn't  there?"  she  spoke  hur- 
riedly. 

"A  lot  indeed,"  replied  Jack,  smiling,  for  the 
unaffected  interest  of  the  girl  was  taking,  "too 
much  to  understand  at  once :  one  needs  time  to  as- 
similate new  experiences." 

She  nodded  quickly,  with  intent  eyes.  "Lucky 
you,"  she  cried,  enviously. 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Selwyn  sauntered  over  to 
them: 

"Why  lucky?"  he  asked  disdainfully. 

"To  have  the  chance  of  seeing  new  people  and 
life  and  adventures,  and — everything,"  the  girl 
snorted,  her  words  tumbling  over  each  other, 
while  her  thick  brows  drew  together  as  if  in  anger 
or  embarrassment  at  her  own  excitement. 

Tremendously  in  earnest  and  full  of  life, 
Jack  thought  her,  and  his  eyes  strayed  over  her 
figure;  it  was  superb,  he  felt  with  a  quickening 
thrill. 

"This  is  good  enough  for  me,"  said  Selwyn 
languidly,  waving  a  white  hand  towards  the  end 
of  the  room,  where  the  footmen  had  just  thrown 

199 


Great  Days 

open  double  doors,  disclosing  the  dining-room  and 
table  with  its  white  napery  and  silver. 

Margaret  shrugged  her  shoulders  contemptu- 
ously and  walked  towards  the  table.  Following 
her,  Jack  could  not  help  studying  her  shape : 
surely,  he  thought,  no  one  ever  looked  so  queenly 
or  moved  with  such  supple  grace.  The  impres- 
sion of  stateliness,  he  decided,  was  given  by  her 
height  and  carriage  and  the  fact  that  her  shoul- 
ders seemed  broader  than  her  hips  and  so  threw 
her  dress  in  long,  austere  lines  to  the  ground:  the 
suggestion  of  suppleness  was  harder  to  account 
for;  it  came  from  swift  movements  that  were 
always  flowing  and  graceful.  An  intoxicat- 
ing sex-attraction,  too,  seemed  to  emanate  from 
her. 

The  conversation  at  table  was  conventional, 
easy:  but  not  without  flashes,  showing  a  certain 
knowledge  of  men  and  affairs,  broidery  so  to 
speak,  on  a  curious  neutral  tint — a  tolerant  ac- 
ceptance of  selfishness  as  the  only  possible  motive 
of  conduct.  The  talk  turned  mainly  on  France, 
and  soon  the  English  dislike  of  French  ideas  fast- 
ened on  Jack  as  an  enemy. 

"How  did  they  come  to  let  you  out,"  asked 
Colonel  Nugent. 

"I  told  the  Governor  my  mother  was  ill,*'  re- 

200 


Great  Days 

plied  Jack,  "and  he  let  me  go  to  negotiate  an  ex- 
change or  else  to  return." 

'*An  astonishing  jailer,"  remarked  Selwyn,  with 
the  suspicion  of  a  sneer,  "a  pity  he  wasn't  at  the 
Conciergerie  to  be  as  kind  to  some  of  the  ladies 
who  were  murdered." 

"Jack  was  lucky  to  get  away,"  said  Cecil,  sen- 
tentiously:  "but  an  exchange  '11  be  difficult.  Our 
Government  won't  treat  with  those  revolutionary 
villains." 

"Wretches,"  echoed  Miss  Emily,  with  a  httle 
ladylike  shudder  as  of  horror. 

Jack  was  on  the  point  of  remonstrating  when 
he  caught  Margaret  Barron  looking  at  him  in- 
tently: her  lips  were  parted,  her  eyes  had  in  them 
a  breathless  expectancy  which  set  him  wondering. 
What  did  the  strange  girl  expect  him  to  say?  It 
was  foolish,  he  felt,  to  dispute  with  such  com- 
placent prejudice  as  all  the  others  showed:  he  pre- 
ferred to  keep  silence. 

Selwyn  still  directed  the  talk. 

"Buonaparte,  I  hear,  wants  to  make  peace,"  he 
said,  "but  Pitt  naturally  demands  serious  guaran- 
tees." 

Jack  noticed  that  Selwyn  pronounced  the  Ital- 
ianate  name  with  emphasized  correctness,  and 
seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  Pitt  was  su- 

201 


Great  Days 

perior  to  Bonaparte,  and  the  master  of  the  sit- 
uation. 

"I  hope  Pitt  won't  make  peace  unless  the  royal 
line  is  restored,"  remarked  Lady  Barron. 

"That,  of  course,  must  be  a  condition  prece- 
dent," Selwyn  hastened  to  add  emphatically. 

"I'm  afraid  in  that  case,"  remarked  Jack,  "the 
war  '11  go  on  for  a  long  time." 

"Perhaps  you  imbibed  republican  notions  in 
prison,"  suggested  Selwyn;  "you  were  there  a  long 
time,  weren't  you?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jack,  "but  it's  hardly  a  question  of 
my  notions :  the  vast  majority  of  the  French  are 
convinced  republicans." 

"Oh,  the  majority!"  cried  Selwyn,  holding  up 
his  hands,  "the  majority  have  no  notions  even. 
The  few  greedy  agitators  and  regicides  are,  of 
course,  republicans,  but  France  must  come  sooner 
or  later  to  its  senses  and  return  to  its  ancient  loy- 
alty." 

Jack  looked  at  him  in  astonishment:  such  ig- 
norance seemed  to  him  inconceivable;  but  Sel- 
wyn's  opinion  was  evidently  received  with  general 
favour. 

Suddenly  Miss  Barron  broke  away  from  the 
rest: 

"You  don't  think  France  will  put  the  Bourbons 

202 


Great  Days 

again  on  the  throne?"  she  asked,  with  quick  in- 
terest in  voice  and  manner. 

"Indeed,  I  do  not,"  replied  Jack,  and  then  the 
whole  pitiable  unreality  of  the  talk  flooded  ov^r 
him,  and  he  responded  frankly  to  the  question  in 
her  eyes. 

"I  don't  suppose  I  could  make  it  plain  to  you," 
he  began:  "but  two  things  I  saw  in  Bordeaux 
might,"  and  without  more  ado  he  told  of  the 
starving  people  in  front  of  the  "Hotel  de  Ville," 
and  of  the  hungry  children  who  had  followed  him 
about  the  streets. 

"Do  you  wonder?"  he  concluded,  "that  the 
people  are  sick  of  the  rulers  and  ruling  classes  who 
have  brought  them  to  such  misery?  All  through 
France  mothers  still  their  children  by  threatening 
to  take  them  to  the  Chateau  or  great  house:  and 
the  name  for  squire  throughout  the  country  is 
hohereau,  as  who  should  say  Squire-Kite.  The 
revolt  was  inevitable  :  the  only  wonder  is  it  didn't 
come  long  before,  and  go  much  deeper,"  he  added 
significantly. 

His  passionate  speech  had  an  intense  effect  on 
Margaret:  she  was  interested  as  she  had  never 
been  interested  in  her  life.  The  incidents  in  Bor- 
deaux thrilled  her,  and  as  the  vivid  words  came 
her  imagination  outran  them :  this  was  the  sort  of 

203 


Great  Days 

talk  she  had  divined  and  always  hoped  to  hear 
but  never  heard;  she  could  scarcely  breathe  for 
excitement. 

"But  what  good  can  it  do?"  asked  Selwyn. 
"After  all,  you  don't  feed  hungry  people  by  mur- 
dering thenoblesandgentry,theirnaturalleaders  !" 

"The  people  were  robbed  and  enslaved  and 
brutalised  by  the  nobles  and  their  exactions,"  cried 
Jack;  "now  that  they've  shaken  off  their  tyrants 
and  taxes,  they'll  soon  get  a  decent  living:  they're 
industrious  and  saving.  Hunger  is  a  dreadful 
thing,"  he  added;  "till  you  see  a  starving  crowd, 
you  don't  realise  the  horror  of  it."  After  a  pause 
he  went  on :  "Revolt's  a  duty  when  the  rule's  bad. 
We're  all  inclined  to  endure  the  accustomed  too 
long,  and  to  let  the  old  conventions  almost  stifle  us 
before  we  rebel." 

"How  true,"  cried  Margaret,  leaning  forward 
in  uncontrollable  excitement:  "how  often  I've  felt 
that.  We  let  customs  fetter  us,  and  duties,  and 
affections,  and — oh ! — everything — Oh !" 

The  effect  of  Margaret's  outburst  on  the  com- 
pany was  prodigious :  they  were  all  taken  aback  by 
her  passionate  vehemence. 

"Margaret,  Margaret,"  warned  her  mother: 
but  the  girl  would  not  be  controlled. 

"It's  true,  mother,  true,"  she  cried,  "revolt  Is  a 

204 


Great  Days 

duty  and,"  she  added  slowly,  "the  first  duty." 
She  stopped  abruptly  as  If  she  had  announced  an 
irrevocable  decision. 

Colonel  Nugent  and  the  others  hurried  to  make 
talk,  and  give  the  girl's  overwrought  feelings  time 
to  settle  into  ordinary  channels.  Meanwhile, 
Margaret  sat  striving  for  self-control,  incapable 
of  speech. 

For  the  last  five  or  six  years,  owing  to  Sir 
George  Barron's  ill  health,  Margaret  had  hardly 
left  the  Court  for  a  day;  the  Barrons  saw  scarcely 
any  company  and  the  seclusion  and  sameness  of 
her  life  had  filled  the  high-spirited  girl  with  a  wild 
longing  for  freedom  and  change.  She  was  in- 
tellectually curious  and  eager  to  know  all  about 
life,  and  so  was  driven  to  spend  the  long  hours 
of  leisure  in  the  library,  where  she  had  learned 
much  the  same  lesson  of  revolt  and  of  pride  in 
her  own  abilities  which  Jack  had  won  from  mixing 
with  men.  Again  and  again  she  had  been  on 
the  point  of  rebeUing;  had  she  known  how  to  cut 
adrift  she  would  have  done  it,  but  she  couldn't 
leave  her  mother  or  change  her  opinions.  Yet  the 
revolt  Jack  preached  and  the  freedom  he  pictured 
were  what  she  had  ached  for;  she  could  not  help 
admiring  him.  His  bold  views  took  her  by  storm ; 
the  passion  in  his  voice  thrilled  her  with  kinship  of 

205 


Great  Days 

soul.  The  bodily  attraction  too,  though  less  im- 
perious to  her,  came  into  account.  Jack's  energy 
and  originality  delighted  her,  the  recklessness  in 
him  and  the  force. 

On  the  others  the  effect  of  Jack's  talk  was  very 
different.  The  pictures  of  human  suffering  had 
passed  before  them  without  arousing  sympathy. 
They  hadn't  sufficient  imagination  to  be  moved. 
Bit  by  bit  the  conversation  drifted  back  into  the 
channel  of  absorbing  interest:  "What  will  the 
French  do  next?"  "Can  a  realm  like  France  go 
on  without  a  King?"  Selwyn  and  the  rest  could 
not  believe  in  the  stability  of  such  a  rule;  but  Jack 
again  dominated  the  cynical  view  with  a  passion- 
ate eulogy  of  Bonaparte: 

"He's  not  only  a  great  general,"  he  concluded; 
"but  a  great  administrator  as  well.  All  eyes  are 
turning  to  him  in  hope,"  he  added. 

Everyone  felt  embarrassed;  Bonaparte  to  them 
was  a  sort  of  ogre ;  they  were  all  relieved  by 
Selwyn's  sneer: 

"Is  Buonaparte  great  because  he  abandoned  his 
army  in  Egypt  to  defeat?" 

Jack  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"The  Nile  victory,"  cried  Nugent,  "has  made 
us  the  masters;  the  French  fleet  is  wiped  out; 
they  must  sue  for  peace." 

206 


Great  Days 

*'Our  victories  at  sea,"  replied  Jack,  "hardly 
counterbalance  the  French  victories  on  land." 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Morgan  regrets  the  victory  of 
the  Nile,"  Selwyn  interjected;  "he  seems  to 
sympathise  as  deeply  with  the  French  as  our 
eloquent  representative  of  Westminster  who  has 
gone  into  seclusion  rather  than  share  in  his 
country's  triumph." 

"I  regret  the  war,"  said  Jack.  "I  can't  see 
why  we  should  fight  the  French  to  put  a  king 
on  the  throne  whom  they  don't  want;  we  should 
resent  their  interfering  with  us  in  such  a  matter." 

"But  surely  you  see,"  said  Colonel  Nugent, 
"that  a  republic  cannot  endure ;  no  country  can 
be  happy  without  a  king  and  constitution." 

"Even  a  bad  king,"  remarked  Lady  Barron 
quietly,  "is  better  than  none  at  all,"  which  seemed 
to  sum  the  matter  up  definitively. 

After  lunch  Lady  Barron  went  up  to  Sir 
George,  and  the  younger  people  strolled  out  into 
the  garden.  Before  Cecil  and  Emily  paired  off, 
Margaret  Barron,  in  her  abrupt  way,  came  over 
to  Jack: 

"I'm  glad  we've  met,"  she  cried.  "Won't  you 
tell  me  about  France?  It  is  all  so  interesting. 
You  are  certainly  right;  we  shouldn't  let  the 
French  choose  our  Government  for  us,  and  yet 

207 


Great  Days 

we  want  to  do  that  for  them;  but  surely  all  the 
murderings  in  Paris  and  all  that  burning  of  castles 
throughout  the  country  was  cruel?" 

"The  madness  of  the  revenge,"  Jack  replied, 
*'onIy  showed  the  intensity  of  their  suffering;  you 
have  no  idea  of  their  misery." 

She  nodded,  her  eyes  drinking  in  his  words. 

"You  don't  think  them  more  cruel,  more  vile 
than  other  nations?"  she  persisted,  as  if  deter- 
mined to  root  out  her  prejudice. 

**I  found  them  courteous  and  kindly,"  he  re- 
plied: "a  little  quick-tempered,  but  without  mal- 
ice." 

Again  the  intent  eyes  held  him,  and  Jack  felt 
now  that  there  was  subtle  sympathy  between  them, 
an  intimate  understanding. 

"And  Bonaparte?"  she  asked,  "have  you  ever 
seen  him?" 

"Never,"  said  Jack,  wondering  at  his  own  ex- 
cited interest,  "but  the  Governor  of  the  jail  where 
I  was,  was  a  hot  partisan  of  his,  and  I  have  had 
great  talks  with  him;  Bonaparte  must  be  an  ex- 
traordinary man." 

"So  Mr.  Fox  thinks,"  she  replied  thoughtfully, 
and  then  as  if  to  warn  Jack  she  added,  "but  Mr. 
Fox  is  not  liked  in  England;  you  will  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  speak  for  the  French  here.    They  will  dis- 

208 


Great  Days 

like  you,  too,  if  you  do?"  she  put  it  like  a  ques- 
tion. Jack  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  the  hardi- 
hood of  youthful  inexperience: 

"Let  them,"  he  said.    '*I  don't  care." 

Her  eyes  glowed  in  sympathy. 

At  this  moment  Selwyn  separated  himself  from 
Nugent  and  moved  across  to  them. 

"Has  Mr.  Morgan  explained  to  you  why  he 
loves  the  French  so  dearly?"  he  said  with  smiling 
superiority  to  Miss  Barron. 

"He's  given  me  a  great  deal  to  think  about," 
she  replied,  scanning  him  coolly:  "food  for 
thought  and  feeling,  and  much  encouragement. 
Every  nation,  it  seems,  has  merits  of  its  own." 

"It  would  need  a  microscope,"  rejoined  Selwyn, 
"to  discover  the  French  virtues;  has  any  good 
thing  ever  come  out  of  France?" 

The  interest  Margaret  had  shown  him  had 
taken  away  some  of  the  antagonism  in  Jack  which 
Selwyn's  opposition  had  aroused,  but  the  sneer 
excited  him. 

"Dozens  of  things,"  he  cried,  "even  their  battle- 
song,  the  Marseillaise,  is  sung  by  their  enemies." 

"A  battle-song  is  hardly  a  good  thing,"  Selwyn 
decided,  lifting  his  eyebrows.  "Mention  one  good 
thing,  will  you?" 

"Napkins  at  table,"   remarked  Jack,   without 

209 


Great  Days 

thinking  that  his  words  might  be  taken  to  convey 
a  certain  reflection  on  his  hostess. 

"Napkins?"  queried  Selwyn.  "What  may  they 
be?" 

"Small  hand  cloths,"  replied  Jack,  "used  at 
table  to  wipe  the  mouth  and  hands." 

Selwyn  laughed,  "We  wash  our  hands,  you  see, 
in  England,  and  have  no  need  of  napkins." 

"What's  that?"  cried  Colonel  Nugent.  "What 
are  you  laughing  at?" 

"Mr.  Morgan  thinks  we  should  have  hand  cloths 
at  table,"  said  Selwyn,  "to  wipe  our  hands  as  the 
French  have;  I  told  him  we  were  somewhat  par- 
ticular about  clean  hands  and  so  have  no  need  of 
napkins." 

Nugent  threw  his  head  up  as  if  the  idea  were 
too  preposterous  even  to  talk  about: 

"All  these  new-fangled,  dirty  ideas,"  he  said, 
"make  me  angry;  I  don't  even  want  to  hear  of 
them." 

There  was  hardly  any  more  general  conversa- 
tion; Selwyn  and  Nugent  took  possession  of  Miss 
Barron  by  walking  on  each  side  of  her,  and  though 
she  flashed  friendly  looks  at  Jack,  and  tried  again 
and  again  to  bring  him  into  the  conversation,  he 
soon  fell  out,  feeling  ostracised  and  disliked. 

It  was  characteristic  of  the  youth  that  he  began 

210 


Great  Days 

asking  himself  at  once  whether  the  coldness  shown 
him  was  due  to  any  fault  of  his;  he  might  have 
been  more  conciliatory,  he  said  to  himself,  but 

The  conviction  slowly  grew  in  him  that  the 
others  were  mistaken;  that  time  would  show  he 
was  right;  that  some  day  or  other  even  the  English 
gentry  might  find  out  that  the  use  of  napkins  at 
meals  was  not  a  proof  of  dirty  habits. 

He  went  home  with  only  one  thought  in  him, 
and  only  one  emotion: 

"When  should  he  see  Margaret  again?  Did 
she  like  him?"  He  felt  her  intent  eyes  on  him, 
felt  that  she  understood  and  sympathised  with  the 
new  ideas  in  him,  the  new  forces  of  endeavour  and 
growth.  .  .  . 

His  sister  told  him  only  what  he  could  see  for 
himself,  that  Selwyn  was  courting  her;  "very 
assiduous,"  she  said  with  detached  indifference, 
not  appearing  to  notice  Jack's  interest. 


211 


CHAPTER  III 

A  DAY  or  two  afterwards  his  sister  told  him 
that  young  Carrol  had  come  down  from 
Oxford,  and  on  the  same  afternoon  he  met  him 
in  the  street.  Carrol  seemed  a  little  shy  at  first, 
but  the  warmth  of  Jack's  greeting  gradually 
thawed  him  out  and  the  two  soon  started  for  one 
of  their  old  walks  over  the  Head. 

Fifty  yards  further  on  they  met  Dr.  Crosby 
face  to  face.  He  greeted  Carrol  in  his  big  bois- 
terous way  with  a  good  deal  of  approval. 

"Good  reports  of  you  from  Oxford,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "A  second  class  is  not  to  be  despised. 
I  was  pleased,  very  pleased  indeed,  I  can  assure 
you;  but  I'm  sorry  to  hear  all  this  about  you, 
Morgan,"  he  said,  turning  to  Jack;  "they  tell  me 
you've  become  a  red  republican,  and  I  don't  know 
what  all  besides." 

Jack  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  but  the  Doctor 
wouldn't  be  interrupted : 

"I  couldn't  believe,"  he  went  on  pompously, 
"that  any  scholar  of  mine  would  defend  revolu- 

212 


Great  Days 

tionary  and  atheistic  ideas,  for  you  can  take  it 
from  me  that  all  revolutionary  ideas  are  atheistic. 
The  whole  revolution  has  come  from  that  school 
of  French  materiahsts  like  Holbach  and  Diderot, 
and  that  sentimental  dog  of  a  Rousseau  whom  we 
used  to  hear  so  much  about  twenty  odd  years  ago." 

Jack  looked  at  him  curiously;  the  Doctor  was 
evidently  in  earnest,  spluttering  indeed  with  in- 
dignation. But  Jack  had  been  taking  himself  to 
task  too  recently  for  speaking  his  mind  to  fall  into 
the  same  fault  again  at  once. 

"I  don't  think,  Sir,  I'm  likely  to  become  a  revo- 
lutionary," he  remarked  lightly,  smiling  the  while. 

"Glad  to  hear  it,  glad  to  hear  it,"  cried  the  big 
man,  "but  take  care;  the  French  are  going  head- 
long to  perdition.  Sir,  headlong,"  and  he  pursed 
out  his  lips,  "and — and  evil  communications — you 

know "  and  he  continued  on  his  way,  shaking 

his  head,  but  well  satisfied  with  what  he  con- 
sidered convincing  arguments  well  put. 

"What  does  it  all  mean?"  asked  Jack. 

"I  don't  know,"  Carrol  replied,  "but  I  hadn't 
been  back  an  hour  when  I  heard  that  you  were 
a  terrible  person.  They  said  you  had  taken  the 
Barrens  to  task  because  they  had  no  hand  cloths 
at  lunch,  which  you  said  everybody  needed  to  wipe 
dirty  hands  and  mouths." 

213 


Great  Days 

Jack  laughed  outright;  it  was  his  first  meeting 
with  Dame  Rumour,  and  her  gift  for  fiction  an- 
noyed him,  but  he  had  really  liked  Carrol,  and 
therefore  left  the  subject;  he  wanted  to  find  out 
all  he  could  about  Oxford  and  his  ambitions. 
Carrol  confessed  himself  rather  hesitatingly;  he 
had  gone  In  for  the  Church,  he  said,  because  his 
father  wished  him  to,  but  he  was  glad  of  it  now, 
for  really  the  English  Church  had  begun  to  in- 
terest him  intensely;  noble  services,  touching 
ceremonial,  the  words  and  music  of  its  offices  alike 
beautiful. 

Jack  wanted  to  hear  more,  but  as  soon  as  he 
probed  beneath  the  surface  Carrol  drew  into  him- 
self like  a  snail  when  the  feelers  are  touched. 

"You  really  believe  in  God?"  asked  Jack. 

"Of  course,"  said  Carrol,  opening  wide  eyes  of 
astonishment. 

"And  in  a  life  after  death  for  this  body  of 
ours?" 

"Of  course,"  gasped  Carrol  again;  "you  do 
too,  don't  you?"  he  asked  in  a  horrified  voice. 

"I  suppose  I  do,"  replied  Jack  hesitatingly,  "but 
it  all  seems  far  away,  vague  and  unreal. 

"Not  to  me,"  said  Carrol  simply.  "I  live  with 
that  faith  and  want  to  live  in  it  more  and  more; 

214 


Great  Days 

it  is  the  thought  of  the  next  life  that  makes  it 
possible  to  live  this  one." 

For  the  first  time  Jack  felt  something  visionary 
in  his  pale  blue  eyes;  this  Carrol  was  new  to  him; 
the  boy  Carrol,  he  felt,  had  given  no  hint  of  the 
man  at  all;  he  wondered  whether  the  impulsive 
quick-feeling  boy  whom  he  had  known  had  dis- 
appeared altogether.  He  questioned  further,  but 
Carrol  had  been  shocked  a  little  and  would  only 
answer  in  monosyllables.  The  talk  became  per- 
functory. .  .  . 

When  Jack  got  back  to  the  Inn  he  found  Riding 
closeted  with  his  father;  he  was  for  leaving  them 
alone,  but  his  father  called  to  him  to  come  in; 
there  was  nothing  he  mightn't  hear,  they  were 
only  talking  over  the  results  of  the  year's  work. 

Riding  had  had  a  successful  time,  it  appeared, 
and  had  put  a  couple  of  thousand  pounds  more 
into  Morgan's  savings.  The  old  man  therefore 
thought  him  capable  of  anything. 

Jack  was  full  of  indignation  at  the  lies  that 
had  been  told  about  him;  when  he  related  what 
had  been  said  about  the  napkins  Riding  roared 
with  laughter. 

"I've  heard  too,"  he  cried,  "that  you  have  a 
red  cap,  and  revolutionary  followers  in  the  smacks. 

215 


Great  Days 

Come  for  a  cruise  with  us,"  he  broke  off  rising, 
"and  all  that  will  be  blown  away.  But  you'll  have 
to  wait  now  till  I  come  back  from  London." 

"Just  see,"  said  Jack,  "if  there's  any  chance  of 
getting  me  exchanged  for  some  French  ofHcer, 
will  you?" 

"I'll  do  my  best,"  replied  Riding,  "but  I'm 
afraid  you'll  have  to  find  a  better  ambassador." 

Jack  was  vaguely  disquieted,  but  as  he  had 
still  months  before  him  he  put  off  thinking  of 
the  matter  for  the  time. 

After  Riding  had  gone  Jack  probed  his  father. 
He  wanted  to  find  out  the  old  man's  real  opinions ; 
had  he  thought  at  all  on  abstract  things? 

"Should  one  say  what  one  thinks?"  he  asked, 
his  argument  with  Selwyn  still  In  his  mind,  and 
forthwith  he  discovered  In  his  father  a  curious 
philosophy  of  life. 

"When  I  was  young,"  said  his  father,  "I  used 
to  want  to  quarrel  with  everyone  who  thought 
differently  from  me,  but  by  the  time  I  came  to 
the  Inn  I  had  seen  the  folly  of  it  and  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  have  no  opinions,  or  rather  to 
keep  them  to  myself.  Let  all  men  talk  as  they 
like,  said  I;  I'll  do  as  I  like.  As  long  as  they 
don't  quarrel  with  my  deeds  I  won't  quarrel  with 
their  words;  I've  always  found  it  a  good  plan,"  he 

216 


Great  Days 

went  on.  "Men  will  help  you  to  make  money  if 
you'll  only  listen  to  them  and  smile  when  they're 
talking  nonsense.  There's  nothing  a  man  hates 
so  much  as  to  be  contradicted  and  argued  with; 
he'd  liefer  be  robbed  than  converted.  .  .  .  Al- 
ways be  a  true-blue  Englishman,"  he  added,  imi- 
tating Dr.  Crosby's  very  roar.  "Patriotism  is 
the  cheapest  way  to  popularity." 

Jack  stared  at  him;  he  seemed  to  see  for  the 
first  time  the  twinkle  in  the  little  grey  eyes;  his 
father  was  very  clever;  he  probably  owed  his 
success  to  his  cunning. 

His  father  was  much  more  about  the  house  than 
he  had  been  before  he  got  lame,  and  Jack  had 
already  noticed  that  he  was  still  keeping  up  the 
old  intrigue  with  Nancy;  once  or  twice  Jack  felt 
almost  sure  he  saw  him  touch  Nancy  as  she  passed 
by.  He  was  certain  that  there  was  an  under- 
standing between  them.  But  after  all  what  did  it 
matter?  His  father  had  a  right  to  do  what  he 
liked. 

Jack  didn't  feel  quite  the  same  in  regard  to 
Nancy.  He  had  taken  to  avoiding  the  bar  because 
Crosby  was  continually  there.  But  one  day  pass- 
ing through  the  yard  he  looked  in  at  the  back 
door  and  almost  caught  Crosby  kissing  Nancy. 
She  had  seen  Jack  and  drawn  away,  but  Crosby's 

217 


Great  Days 

hand  was  certainly  on  her  neck  and  her  face  was 
flushed.  Jack  felt  indignant  with  her,  but  he 
wouldn't  have  her  think  he  was  spying  on  her, 
and  so  he  kept  away  from  the  Inn  as  much  as 
possible. 

This  determination  drove  him  to  spend  most 
of  his  leisure  with  the  seamen  in  the  little  harbour. 
Riding  returned  from  London  without  having 
brought  about  an  exchange;  he  could  not  even 
get  speech  with  the  authorities.  But  he  seemed 
to  accept  rebuffs  without  bearing  any  malice. 

Jack  had  long  talks  with  him  and  found  him 
extraordinarily  fair-minded  in  spite  of  a  scanty 
education.  It  was  Riding  who  brought  him  round 
to  Chips'  yard.  Chips  was  a  little  man,  even 
smaller  than  Jack's  father,  with  a  funny  little  face 
framed  in  cocoanut  red  hair  and  beard,  but  he 
had  noticeably  intent  grey  eyes.  Chips  made  up 
to  Jack  at  once,  told  him  he  ought  to  give  him 
a  commission  to  make  a  brig  that  no  Frenchman 
could  catch. 

"You  want  a  clean  pair  of  heels,"  said  Chips. 
"You  should  be  able  to  fight  when  you  like  and 
run  away  when  you  like.  The  little  Dolphin 
could  do  it  pretty  well,  but  if  your  brig  had  had 
proper  lines  she'd  have  run  rings  round  that 
French  frigate." 

218 


Great  Days 

Jack  thought  he  might  do  worse  some  day  or 
other  than  entrust  Chips  with  the  building  of  a 
clipper,  for  the  little  shipwright  knew  his  trade. 

Even  here  at  the  port  Jack  couldn't  get  rid 
of  Crosby;  one  evening,  coming  up  from  the 
Dolphin,  he  saw  him  turning  away  from  a  girl. 
When  he  came  abreast  of  her  he  couldn't  help 
looking  at  her  rather  curiously;  she  smiled  at  him 
and  nodded  pleasantly.  Jack  went  over  to  her; 
it  was  Knight's  sister  Gretta. 

"Why,  Gretta,"  he  said,  "what  are  you  doing 
here?" 

"I  came  down  to  see  my  brother,"  she  said, 
"and  met  Mr.  Crosby  by  chance." 

In  the  course  of  talk  she  told  him  that  she  was 
married  to  a  farm  labourer  and  could  not  make 
both  ends  meet  on  the  seven  shillings  a  week  of 
his  wages. 

"I  have  to  give  mother  something,"  she  said. 
"I  came  down  here  to  get  some  fish  cheap;  it's 
hard  for  us  poor  to  live." 

"But  why  did  you  marry  a  poor  man?"  Jack 
asked  heedlessly. 

"Who  else  was  there  to  marry  in  this  hole?" 
she  retorted  quickly.  "If  there  had  been  anybody 
better  you  may  be  sure  I'd  not  have  chosen  pov- 
erty ..." 

219 


Great  Days 

There  was  something  obsequious,  carneying  In 
her  manner  which  Jack  didn't  like.  He  gave  her 
a  sovereign  and  she  was  profuse  In  thanks. 

"I  wouldn't  see  much  of  Crosby  If  I  were  you," 
he  said  finally.    "He'll  do  you  no  good." 

"I  never  see  Mr.  Crosby,"  she  hastened  to 
answer.  "I  met  him  here  by  chance  as  I  was 
waiting  for  my  brother;  I  had  to  speak  to  the 
gentleman  when  he  spoke  to  me." 

From  the  way  she  answered  Jack  felt  that  her 
very  soul  was  servile;  misery  had  had  Its  way 
with  her,  though  by  nature  she  was  self-reliant. 
Seven  shillings  a  week !  How  could  anyone  main- 
tain character  or  decency  on  such  starvation  wage? 

The  port  quickly  became  as  tiresome  to  Jack 
as  the  inn  and  he  was  soon  ready  to  accept  his 
sister's  suggestion  that  they  ought  at  least  to  call 
at  The  Court.  He  went  there  with  her  one  after- 
noon and  fell  Into  the  midst  of  a  large  company. 
Some  country  people  had  driven  across  In  a  great 
family  coach  all  gilt  and  glass,  suspended  on 
leathern  springs — an  immense  affair  drawn  by 
four  horses  with  plumes.  There  were  servants 
In  various  liveries  In  the  hall  and  the  drawing- 
room  was  crowded.  Jack  felt  altogether  out  of 
place  In  the  fashionably  dressed  throng;  some  of 
the  visitors  he  thought  eyed  him  askance. 

220 


Great  Days 

After  listening  for  ten  minutes  to  the  medley 
of  voices  he  began  trying  to  convey  to  Emily  his 
desire  to  get  away. 

Miss  Barron  seized  the  opportunity  to  come 
across  to  him  for  a  moment. 

"So  you've  met  Mr.  Carrol,"  she  said  gaily. 
"What  do  you  think  of  him." 

Jack  could  not  help  seeing  that  she  was  at  her 
best;  the  little  excitement  of  receiving  had  brought 
colour  to  her  cheeks  and  made  her  vibrant;  her 
height  and  carriage  gave  her  distinction:  he  no- 
ticed strands  of  gold  in  her  hair  and  her  blue  eyes 
seemed  darker:  she  was  more  than  pretty. 

"He  was  interesting,"  Jack  hesitated. 

Her  eyes  widened  with  amusement:  "You 
found  him  weak,  ineffectual?"  she  smiled.  "Not: 
one  of  the  conquerors  in  life — eh?" 

"A  little  vague  and  credulous,"  Jack  admitted. 

"Sincere  though,"  she  added  gravely  with  in- 
scrutable eyes.  "Why  don't  you  come  here 
oftener?"  she  added,  probing  him. 

"I  seem  like  an  intruder,"  he  confessed.  "My 
very  clothes  are  different." 

"What  does  that  matter?"  she  cried.  "I  feel 
I  can  learn  things  from  you ;  you've  seen  and  done 
things.    I'm  full  of  curiosity  and  so  ignorant." 

221 


Great  Days 

There  could  be  no  mistaking  her  earnestness 
and  sincerity. 

"Do  come,  there's  so  much  I  want  to  know, 
heaps  of  things.    Do  come!" 

"I  will,"  he  replied  simply,  "but  my  mental 
clothes  are  just  as  bad;  they're  out  of  fashion  too, 
and  probably  offensive." 

"Then  you  must  be  either  mad  or  wise,"  she 
declared,  laughing.  "But  come  some  afternoon 
soon  and  we'll  discuss  it.    Promise?" 

Jack  could  not  but  bow  to  the  request  that  was 
half  a  challenge. 

The  next  moment  she  was  taken  away  by  a 
brother  and  sister  who  wanted  her  opinion  on  the 
best  form  of  side  saddle.  Was  the  new  fangled 
idea  of  a  second  horn  a  help  or  not? 

As  she  went  she  threw  over  her  shoulder  to 
Jack: 

"We've  done  nothing  but  talk  of  napkins  ever 
since  you  told  us  about  them.  I'm  having  some 
made." 

Jack  was  warmed  and  softened  by  her  friendli- 
ness, and  more  than  a  little  astonished  by  her 
insight  and  understanding;  she  was  very  quick 
he  felt;  curiously  right  too  about  Carrol.  She 
excited  him  strangely;  set  him  thinking  rather 
humbly  of  his  own  poor  accomplishments.     He 

222 


Great  Days 

had  no  notion  that  his  own  force  of  character  and 
virihty  made  him  interesting  to  women. 

On  their  way  home  his  sister  took  him  to  task; 
he  must  mingle  with  people  and  talk  to  them,  not 
stand  alone,  glowering. 

"I  have  nothing  to  talk  about,"  he  said. 

"You  must  make  talk,"  she  replied,  "that's  the 
chief  art  of  society;  find  out  what  people  are 
interested  in,"  she  said,  "and  get  them  to  talk 
about  that,  or,  better  still,  talk  to  them  about 
themselves;  you'll  find  they  all  like  that  subject." 

Jack  looked  at  her  in  wonderment;  his  sister 
too  was  clever  in  her  own  way.  All  people  he 
reflected  were  probably  clever  in  some  way  or 
other.  But  the  social  whirligig  was  as  absurd 
to  him  as  the  merry-go-round  of  a  fair;  he  found 
it  difficult  to  go  to  The  Court,  tedious;  of  the  lot 
only  Margaret  was  worth  knowing. 

He  began  to  get  a  little  hopeless  in  regard  to 
himself;  he  had  no  talent  for  the  drawing-room, 
no  talent  either  for  the  inn  parlour,  and  not  much 
desire  to  lounge  about  the  port.  What  was  his 
place  in  life?    What  ought  he  to  do? 

Time  hung  heavy  on  his  hands.  In  his  despair 
he  began  to  read  and  first  of  all  naturally  enough 
he  began  with  the  newspapers.  He  found  the 
Times   stupidly  prejudiced   and  not  to   be   had 

223 


Great  Days 

nearer  than  Dover.  Apart  from  the  little  scraps 
of  news  there  was  nothing  in  it  to  interest  him: 
the  idiotic  partisan  views  of  France  and  the  war; 
the  abuse  of  Mr.  Fox  and  praise  of  Mr.  Pitt; 
the  caricatures  of  Mr.  Tiernay  and  Mr.  Erskine 
seemed  ahke  stupid  to  him. 

At  a  loose  end  he  went  up  and  called  at  The 
Court.  Margaret  was  glad  to  see  him,  and 
walked  with  him  to  the  lodge.  His  first  impres- 
sions of  her  were  confirmed;  she  was  quick  and 
fair-minded,  astonishingly  free  of  prejudice,  and 
eager  to  learn — a  strong  character  with  consider- 
able power  of  observation.  She  was  as  little  patri- 
otic as  Jack  himself,  and  he  probed  to  find  out 
how  she  had  come  to  shake  off  the  general  malady. 

"When  I  was  a  little  girl,"  she  said,  "our 
gardener  told  me  one  day  that  the  best  roses  were 
French,  and  the  best  peaches,  and  I  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  perhaps  some  French  men  and 
women  too  might  be  exceptional.  Then  I  heard 
of  Charlotte  Corday,  and  she  became  my  favourite 
heroine;  I  used  to  read  of  her  for  hours,  and  cry 
over  the  noble  way  she  forgave  her  enemies,  or 
I  imagined  she  forgave  them.  No,  I  don't  think 
I'm  a  bit  patriotic." 

"You  astonish  me,"  he  said.  "How  did  you 
come  to  be  such  a  revoltee?" 

224 


Great  Days 

"I  don't  know,"  she  replied.  "From  the  time 
I  was  fourteen  I  rebelled  against  the  dictation 
of  parents  and  governess.  They  could  never  give 
good  reasons,  yet  thought  they  should  be  honoured 
and  their  opinions  respected.  I  was  always  at 
war  with  that  view.  And  both  mother  and  father 
think  all  the  old  ways  the  only  possible  ways,  and 
they  never  reason  or  doubt,  yet  they  expect  you 
to  agree  with  all  they  say  or  do — it's  frightful. 
I  used  to  want  to  break  things  after  a  dispute 
with  daddy." 

In  her  turn  she  questioned  Jack  about  France 
and  the  doings  of  the  Reds,  and  hung  breathless 
on  his  lips. 

"Oh,  how  fine,"  she  cried  at  Caressa's  story  of 
the  first  Italian  campaign.  "How  I  wish  I  had 
been  a  man;  then  I  too  might  have  done  some- 
thing. How  loathsome  to  be  cooped  up  here 
and  fed  like  a  fowl — loathsome!" 

She  was  quick-tempered.  Jack  felt,  but  with  a 
fund  of  generosity,  and  ease  of  unselfishness  which 
brought  him  often  to  wonder.  His  breath  caught 
when,  at  the  end  of  the  talk,  she  told  him  her 
mother  proposed  to  take  her  to  town  soon.  The 
thought  of  being  unable  to  see  her  was  so  bitter 
that  he  realised  how  much  he  prized  the  chance 
talks  with  her.     She  consoled  him  a  little  by  hop- 

225 


Great  Days 

ing  he  would  come  to  see  them  again  before  they 
left. 

After  this  visit  time  hung  still  more  heavily  on 
Jack's  hands.  He  began  to  spend  a  good  deal  of 
his  leisure  with  books,  and  when  he  was  not  read- 
ing his  thoughts  began  to  wander  more  and  more 
to  France,  to  Suzanne  and  the  little  Colonel. 
Why  had  they  not  written  he  wondered?  He 
would  write  again;  and  he  wrote  again  and  again. 
Not  receiv^ing  any  answer  he  took  the  second  or 
third  letter  himself  to  Boulogne  and  forwarded 
it  from  there. 

Boulogne  was  intensely  interesting  to  him. 
Round  the  little  port  of  Wimereux  a  sort  of  smug- 
glers' camp  had  been  formed  of  men  of  both 
nationalities,  daring  young  fellows  for  the  most 
part  who  were  unvexed  with  scruples  and  willing 
to  do  anything  for  money.  Jack  found  he  could 
buy  good  French  cognac  in  this  camp  which  had 
been  run  up  the  coast  from  port  to  port.  Of 
course  it  was  dear;  four  times  the  price  it  used 
to  be  in  Bordeaux;  but  even  so  it  could  be  sold 
in  England  at  an  immense  profit.  This  was  the 
trade  which  Riding  had  found  profitable  and  Jack 
slipped  into  it  again  very  easily  and  made  one 
or  two  successful  trips. 

Returning  from  his  third  trip  he  found  at  the 

226 


Great  Days 

Inn  a  letter  from  Suzanne  which  put  an  end  to 
all  his  hesitation.  She  began  by  reproaching  him; 
she  had  written  every  week;  it  was  disgraceful 
of  him  not  to  have  answered;  he  must  have  got 
at  least  one  letter  out  of  the  dozen  she  had 
sent.  This  was  the  last  she  would  ever  write;  if 
she  got  no  answer  she  would  be  compelled  to  tell 
her  uncle  that  she  was  enceinte;  it  was  terrible  to 
her;  she  could  never  forgive  Jack  his  silence;  he 
should  have  guessed  the  truth.  It  was  cruel 
of  him  to  leave  her  without  a  word,  without  a 
sign,  and  she  supposed  that  he  would  neglect  his 
promise  to  come  back  within  the  six  months  too; 
for  already  more  than  four  had  passed  and  there 
was  no  word  from  him,  no  message,  nothing 

Every  word  of  the  letter  was  written  in  Jack's 
brain  and  heart;  he  blamed  himself  fiercely;  how 
could  he  have  been  so  thoughtless?  He  ought  to 
have  known  she  would  have  written.  Why  had 
she  got  none  of  his  letters?  What  was  he  to  do? 
At  once  he  called  his  father  to  counsel;  he  told 
him  all  that  had  happened  and  asked  him  for  his 
advice. 

"I  shall  have  to  go  at  once,"  he  said.    "I  must 

go- 

His  father  wouldn't  hear  of  it. 

227 


Great  Days 

"Don't  be  stupid,"  he  said.  "Why  should  you 
go  back  to  prison?" 

"But  I've  promised,"  said  Jack. 

"Oh,  promised!"  said  his  father.  "Promises 
are  not  important.  Besides  who's  to  tell  you  that 
this  girl  is  really  in  that  way;  she  may  be  putting 
it  on  just  to  get  you  back.     I  wouldn't  stir." 

Jack  couldn't  be  satisfied  with  that  solution. 
He  asked  his  sister  about  his  parole.  She  thought 
he  ought  to  go  to  London  himself  to  arrange  an 
exchange,  or,  better  still,  get  Cecil  Barron  to  in- 
troduce him  to  influential  people. 

"What  a  pity  you  attacked  Selwyn;  he  has 
great  power,  you  know.  It's  all  a  question  of 
influence,"  she  went  on.  "Cecil  told  me  that  any 
Minister  could  get  you  an  exchange." 

Jack  listened,  but  he  had  lost  hope.  His  sister 
proposed  that  they  should  go  up  to  the  Court  to 
see  Cecil  Barron  on  the  matter,  and  Jack  went 
with  her  all  in  a  turmoil.  He  left  Emily  to  put 
the  matter  before  Cecil  while  he  went  for  a  walk 
with  Margaret.  Curiously  enough  her  presence 
and  kindness  sharpened  the  conscience  in  him; 
made  him  see  his  duty  more  clearly,  while  ren- 
dering it  more  distasteful. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked  him  at  once. 
"You're  troubled  about  something." 

228 


Great  Days 

Jack  put  the  question  of  the  parole  to  her: 

"I've  been  thinking  of  it,"  she  said.  "Of 
course  you'll  go  back  if  you  don't  get  an  ex- 
change." 

Jack  bowed  his  head  at  once.  He  had  felt  all 
along  that  that  was  the  only  thing  to  be  done, 

"There's  something  else?"  she  questioned. 
"What  is  it?" 

Jack  put  her  off  at  first  and  then  framed  a 
suppositious  case  without  mentioning  Suzanne. 
Margaret  listened  intently,  probing  him  the  while; 
he  felt  her  interest,  winced  at  her  divination. 

"I  ought  not  to  talk  to  you  about  it,"  he  re- 
marked lamely. 

"Why  not?"  she  asked  quickly. 

"You're  a  girl,"  he  said,  "and  too  young." 

"You  don't  think  so,"  she  cried,  "or  you 
wouldn't  have  spoken  at  all." 

"I  suppose  that's  true,"  he  admitted.  "I  have 
confidence  in  your  judgment." 

She  flushed  a  little,  perhaps  with  pleasure  at 
the  implied  compliment.  All  her  emotions  were 
reflected  in  her  face  and  the  vivid  spirit  betrayed 
itself  In  vibrating  nostrils  and  quick  change  of 
colour. 

"Why  not  tell  me  the  whole  truth?"  she  asked. 

229 


Great  Days 

"I'm  not  easily  shocked.  Women  often  pretend 
they  are;  but  it's  usually  mere  pretence." 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  Jack  told  his  story, 
veiling  it  as  much  as  he  could;  he  ended  by  asking: 

"What  am  I  to  do?" — hoping  he  knew  not 
what. 

"You  must  know  that,"  was  Margaret's  quick 
answer.    "Do  you  love  her?" 

"I  thought  I  did,"  hesitated  Jack. 

"If  you  did,  you  do,"  she  decided. 

Jack  looked  at  her  with  miserable  sad  eyes: 
"I'm  beginning  to  fear — "  he  said. 

Margaret  was  resolute. 

"If  you  told  her  you  did,  you  ought  to  go 
back." 

Jack  bent  his  head;  his  voice  caught  in  his 
throat,  then  an  angry  resolution  came  to  him: 
"You're  right.     I'll  go  back." 

"Tell  her  the  truth,"  said  she,  relenting,  "let 
her  decide." 

"That  would  be  cruel,"  replied  Jack,  "and  im- 
possible to  me." 

"Not  so  cruel  in  the  long  run,"  cried  Margaret, 
"as    the    half   truth    that   makes    one    sick   with 


M 


misery. 

"I'll  think  it  over,"   decided  Jack  resolutely. 

230 


Great  Days 

"Good-bye;  you've  been  very  good.      I  wish  I 
were  worthy  of  your  kindness." 

"Good-bye,"  repeated  Margaret,  a  little  rue- 
fully.   "I  wish " 


231 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON  their  way  home  Emily  told  Jack  that  Cecil 
had  been  very  kind  and  had  promised  to 
do  all  he  could;  he  would  write  at  once  to  London. 

"The  worst  of  it  is,"  she  said,  "that  you  are 
not  an  officer,  and  the  English  government  will 
not  like  to  give  up  a  French  officer  for  an  English- 
man who  has  not  got  a  commission." 

In  spite  of  his  weight  of  anxiety  and  depression, 
Jack  could  hardly  help  smiling.  It  seemed  to 
him  amusing  that  the  English  government  should 
think  a  French  midshipman  or  lieutenant  more 
important  than  himself,  but  he  was  beginning  to 
realise  that  the  standard  of  values  in  England 
was  peculiar. 

He  told  his  sister  it  didn't  matter;  he  intended 
to  go  to  France  at  once;  she  argued  against  this 
rather  weakly. 

"I  suppose  you  must  keep  your  parole,"  she 
said. 

It  suddenly  struck  him  that  she  had  got  the 
phrase  from  Cecil  Barron;  she  seemed  to  have 

232 


Great  Days 

no  mind,  no  opinion  outside  her  own  interests; 
she  was  a  pretty  doll-woman,  that  was  all. 

When  they  got  to  the  Inn  Jack  called  his  father 
into  the  parlour  and  told  him  that  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  back;  could  he  have  the  Dolphin 
to  take  him  to  Boulogne? 

His  sister  interrupted  them: 

"I've  told  Jack,"  she  said,  "that  I  think  it  non- 
sensical; of  course  he  must  keep  his  parole,  but  he 
has  still  a  month,  and  if  he  takes  my  advice  and 
goes  up  to  London  and  is  nice  to  Cecil  Barron 
and  his  friends  they'll  get  him  an  exchange  and 
he  needn't  go  back  at  all,  but  he  won't  listen  to 
me;  I  only  hope  you'll  have  more  influence  with 
him,  father,"  and  she  went  upstairs  to  change 
her  feathers,  leaving  the  father  and  son  together 
to  share  the  responsibility  of  decision. 

"Sit  down,  lad,"  said  the  father.  "Tell  me 
why  you've  made  up  your  mind?" 

"Two  things,"  replied  Jack,  "the  English 
government  won't  give  me  an  exchange;  they 
think  any  French  officer  worth  more  than  I  am. 
I  shall  have  to  go  back  in  a  month  in  any  case. 
Besides " 

The  father  looked  at  him:  "One  thing  at  a 
time;  if  the  British  government  knew  that  you 
had  thirty  thousand  pounds   in   the   Funds,   and 

233 


Great  Days 

that  I  had  a  bit  over  double  that,  they'd  think  you 
worth  as  much  as  a  French  officer.  We'll  take 
Barron  with  us  and  go  up  and  tell  'em." 

"Why  didn't  you  do  it  before?"  questioned 
Jack,  "when  I  spoke  to  you  four  months  ago?" 

"I  had  no  idea,"  replied  his  father  coolly, 
"that  you  really  thought  of  going  back.  I  should 
not  go  a  step,  and  I  thought  you'd  have  as  much 
sense." 

"You  wouldn't  go  now?"  asked  Jack. 

The  father  grinned  and  his  little  eyes  twinkled: 

"I  wouldn't  think  of  it,"  he  said.  "Do  you 
know  what  I'd  do  in  your  place." 

"No,"  said  Jack,  looking  at  him  without  much 
hope  or  interest. 

"I'd  go  to  London  to  Cecil  Barron's  tailors 
and  get  rigged  out  in  the  top  of  the  fashion; 
I'd  come  back  here  and  lease  The  Grange  and 
live  in  it;  I'd  buy  a  couple  of  horses  and  take 
Miss  Nugent  out  driving,  and  when  everyone  was 
admiring  my  horses  and  my  house  I'd  go  to  The 
Court  and  ask  Miss  Barron  to  come  out  for  a 
drive  with  me;  you'd  win  her,  I  tell  you,"  he 
wound  up  vehemently.  "You'd  win  her  easily. 
.  .  .  The  old  man's  finished;  the  port  wine  has 
done  for  him,  he  hasn't  a  year  to  live;  Lady 
Barron's  nothing;  the  boy's  a  weak  spendthrift. 

234 


Great  Days 

We've  got  forty  thousand  pounds'  mortgage  on 
The  Court;  within  this  year  If  we  put  on  the  screw 
the  girl  will  come  down  and  beg  you  to  marry 
her  to  save  her  brother  and  her  mother  If  for 
nothing  else.  Think  It  over,  Jack.  Life's  a 
game,"  he  added  reflectively.  "You've  all  the 
best  cards,  why  throw  your  hand  away?" 

Jack  looked  at  him ;  at  length  he  was  beginning 
to  see  his  father  as  he  was. 

"Did  you  marry  mother?"  he  asked,  "because 
she  had  this  Inn?" 

His  father  looked  a  little  confused  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  a  slow  smile  stole  over  his  face : 

"I  was  a  young  fool  in  those  days,"  he  con- 
fessed, "and  she  was  a  fine  woman;  but  I  don't 
think  I'd  have  married  her  if  she'd  had  nothing; 
I'd  have  kissed  her,"  he  added  grinning. 

Jack's  eyes  grew  more  miserable  still;  his  father 
had  gone  too  far. 

"No  need  for  talking,"  he  said.  "Each 
of  us  must  go  his  own  way  In  life,  my  way  is  back 
to  France;  I  don't  want  to  cheat,"  he  added.  "At 
any  rate  I  won't  cheat  those  who  have  trusted 
me;  I  couldn't  if  I  would " 

His  father  tapped  the  table  with  his  fingers; 
he  looked  at  the  boy  whom  he  loved,  of  whom 

235 


Great  Days 

in  his  heart  he  was  very  proud.  He  took 
in  the  hard-set  face,  the  despairing  sad  eyes. 
*'He's  hke  his  mother,"  he  said  to  himself,  "the 
same  big  kind  heart,"  and  his  bowels  yearned 
over  the  lad.  Still  life  was  a  battle  to  him  and 
he  couldn't  give  up  the  fight;  he  was  too  obstinate 
for  that. 

"Did  you  tell  her  so?"  he  asked  Jack. 

Jack  looked  at  him,  only  half  understanding. 

"Miss  Barron,  I  mean,"  his  father  added 
quietly. 

Jack  nodded. 

"And  she  told  you  to  go  back?" 

Jack  nodded  again. 

The  old  man's  hairy  fingers  beat  a  little  tattoo 
on  the  table,  a  habit  with  him  when  thinking  pro- 
foundly. 

"She  said  nothing  more?"  he  questioned  fur- 
ther. 

"Nothing,"  Jack  replied  with  a  sigh,  "but  that 
I  was  to  tell  Suzanne  the  truth." 

His  father  stopped  the  tattoo  on  the  table  and 
looked  up  at  Jack: 

"And  you  will?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

Jack  shook  his  head:  "I  couldn't;  how  can 
you  hurt  someone  who  cares  for  you?" 

Again  the  old  man  was  baffled,  annoyed,  an- 

236 


Great  Days 

gered;  and  yet  at  the  bottom  of  him  he  was  con- 
scious of  admiration  for  the  youth. 

"You  will  do  as  you  please,"  he  said  at  length. 
"You  know  I'll  always  stand  by  you,"  and  their 
eyes  met. 

Jack  put  both  hands  on  the  old  man's  shoulders 
and  nodded  his  head  smiling. 

"I  know,  dad,"  he  said,  "I  know." 

The  old  man  rose  without  a  word  and  went  out: 
"The  look  of  his  mother,"  he  said  to  himself  as 
he  went;  "her  very  eyes." 

That  same  night  Jack  started  for  Boulogne  in 
the  Dolphin;  they  had  to  leave  the  course  twice 
to  avoid  English  cruisers;  since  the  battle  of  the 
Nile  the  narrow  seas  were  alive  with  them  and 
the  pressgangs  were  at  work  continually. 

Jack  had  gone  on  board  with  a  heart  like  lead, 
but  the  excitement  of  being  pursued  and  escaping 
changed  his  ideas,  put  new  eager  life  into  him,  and 
when  at  length  he  landed  at  the  smugglers'  camp 
one  dark  night  he  was  quite  happy  to  say  "Good- 
bye" to  Riding  and  climb  up  the  sandy  dunes  by 
himself.  He  knew  every  foot  of  the  way  to  the 
inn  beside  the  harbour;  he  knew,  too,  that  the  Inn- 
keeper, Monsieur  Pin,  would  give  him  a  good 
welcome.     As  he  hastened  up  the  winding  foot- 

237 


Great  Days 

path  he  sprang  from  one  tussock  of  stiff  grass 
to  another  out  of  sheer  delight  in  his  own  strength 
of  limb  and  physical  exuberance  of  life.  The  spice 
of  danger  in  the  adventure  did  him  good. 

"Great  prey  for  a  smuggler,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, for  he  had  a  thousand  pounds  in  the  belt 
round  his  waist,  but  he  had  a  sword  by  his  left 
side  and  a  pistol  just  under  his  hand;  and  supreme 
confidence  in  his  own  skill  and  strength.  Pin 
might  be  dead;  he  might  find  French  soldiers  in 
possession,  but  after  all  he  was  only  going  back 
to  imprisonment;  and  he  strode  on  lustily,  every 
now  and  then  running  fifty  yards  out  of  sheer 
delight  in  his  own  speed. 

He  found  George  Pin  at  the  inn  and  got  a 
warm  welcome  from  him.  He  sat  up  half  the 
night  talking  to  some  of  the  French  smugglers — 
good  fellows  for  the  most  part,  though  some  of 
them  would  have  cut  his  throat  for  the  gold  he 
had  with  him. 

Next  morning  he  took  a  seat  in  the  diligence 
that  left  Boulogne  to  follow  the  sandy  coast  south- 
wards. But  before  leaving  Boulogne  he  sent  a 
letter  to  Suzanne: 


Viens  de  recevoir  ta  premiere  lettre,  cherie: 
suis  en  route.    Ton  Jack. 

238 


Great  Days 

The  further  he  went  the  gladder  he  was  to 
tbe  going  back.  He  grew  eager  to  see  Suzanne 
again;  would  she  be  as  pretty  as  ever?  he  won- 
dered. Would  she  be  glad  to  see  him  or  cross? 
Probably  cross;  she  was  a  little  spitfire,  but  a 
kind  heart.  And  old  Caressa,  he  was  a  dear. 
Would  he  still  be  disputing  with  Sauvan?  Jack 
noticed  that  he  didn't  care  much  for  Sauvan;  the 
philosopher  seemed  thin,  heartless,  bloodless — 
"damn  his  philosophy,"  said  Jack  to  himself: 
"one  moment  of  Caressa's  hero-worship  is  worth 
a  year  of  it."  As  he  thought  of  the  little  fiery 
Frenchman  spluttering  with  anger  at  the  prag- 
matic philosopher  he  roared  with  laughter.  The 
world  was  a  comic  place;  himself  rather  a  comic 
person;  here  he  was  hastening  to  do  something 
that  he  didn't  want  to  do;  but  didn't  he  want  to 
do  it? 

He  saw  Suzanne's  face  again  as  she  was  pack- 
ing for  him  and  his  heart  went  out  to  her.  He 
recalled  her  as  she  held  up  the  light  in  the  dungeon 
and  her  bare  arm  shone  in  the  gloom.  Again  he 
was  at  her  bedroom  door  and  as  he  put  his  hand 
up  to  tap,  the  door  drew  av/ay  and  he  saw  her 
white  figure  and  took  her  warmth  In  his 
arms.  .  .  . 

He  was  glad  to  go  back,  he'd  have  a  great 

239 


Great  Days 

reception,  they'd  all  be  glad  to  see  him.  The  way 
seemed  long,  the  hours  dragged. 

Village  after  village  slid  behind,  and  at  length 
he  came  through  the  gap  between  the  hills  and 
recognised  the  two  pine  trees;  another  turn  of 
the  road  and  he  saw  Cherbourg  lying  before  him 
with  rile  Pelee  to  the  right  and  the  unfinished 
breakwater  in  the  middle  and  the  fort  on  the 
island  opposite.  Now  he  was  ratthng  over  the 
pavement  of  the  streets;  he  would  soon  be  at  La 
Trinite.  Suddenly  he  remembered  that  if  he  left 
the  diligence  at  the  next  corner  and  took  his  way 
down  that  street  and  then  the  next  to  the  left 
he  would  reach  the  prison  quicker.  His  baggage 
would  be  all  safe  with  the  honest  French  people. 

In  a  moment  he  had  opened  the  crazy  old  door, 
balanced  himself  on  the  steps  and  jumped  down 
on  the  pavement.  People  looked  at  him,  but  no 
one  seemed  to  recognise  him;  he  turned  down  the 
street  and  round  the  next  corner,  and  saw  the 
prison  in  front  of  him;  he  began  to  run.  When 
he  came  to  the  gate  the  sentry  didn't  know  him, 
but  he  went  in  at  once. 

"Le  Colonel  Caressa,"  he  cried,  and  ran  across 
the  yard.  As  he  got  to  the  door  of  the  lodge  it 
opened;  Suzanne  was  there,  and  he  found  himself 
kissing  her  wildly  while  she  cried  silently.     Still 

240 


Great  Days 

holding  each  other  they  went  into  the  sitting-room 
and  there  he  looked  at  her.  She  had  altered 
greatly;  she  was  much  thinner,  but  one  could 
see  scarcely  any  change  in  her  figure. 

*'Why  didn't  you  come  sooner?"  she  cried  re- 
proachfully. "The  days  have  been  so  long.  I 
thought  you  would  never  come,  Jack!" 

"I  only  got  the  one  letter  from  you,"  he  said. 
"This  one,  and  I  started  at  once." 

"I  wrote  once  a  week,"  she  said,  "for  the  first 
two  months.  I  was  happy  at  first,  and  then  after 
I  knew  how  I  was,  I  began  to  get  frightened  and 
sad  and  I  wrote  twice  a  week,  but  I  never  had  an 
answer,  not  one.    Have  you  seen  uncle?" 

"No,"  Jack  replied.  "I  got  down  at  the  corner 
and  came  the  short  way;  he'll  miss  me." 

"No,  no,"  she  said,  "he'll  guess;  he  always  be- 
lieved you'd  come." 

"Have  you  told  him?"  said  Jack. 

She  shook  her  head,  "No,  but  I  think  he  knows. 
He  has  gone  to  meet  you  in  all  his  uniform,  poor 
little  uncle.  He  loves  you,  you  know,"  she  added 
wisely,  nodding  her  head. 

"And  I  him,"  said  Jack.  "Should  I  just  run 
there  or  can  you  send?" 

She  smiled. 

"You  can  send  Chichet  if  you  like,"  she  said. 

241 


Great  Days 

Jack  went  out  bare-headed  and  called  and  at 
once  Chichet  skipped  across  the  courtyard  to  meet 
him  and  after  embracing  him  and  kissing  him  on 
both  cheeks  started  off  at  full  speed  to  La  Trinite 
to  bring  the  Colonel  while  the  little  soldier  at 
the  gate  stared  in  astonishment  hardly  able  to 
make  up  his  mind  whether  he  had  done  right  or 
wrong  to  neglect  the  consigne. 

Jack  returned  to  Suzanne  and  told  her  how 
often  he  had  written  and  how  he  had  failed  to  get 
an  exchange,  hoping  to  the  last  minute  that  it 
would  be  possible,  and  she  nodded  her  head. 
Already  she  seemed  different;  hfe  and  hope  had 
come  into  her  eyes  and  face. 

Then  the  door  opened  and  the  Colonel  appeared 
with  Chichet  behind  him.  The  Colonel  looked 
very  stern,  his  black  moustaches  were  curled  up 
defiantly;  he  had  on  his  desperate  air,  but  Jack 
went  to  him  with  outstretched  arms. 

''Petit  pere,"  he  cried,  and  at  once  the  Colonel 
threw  his  arms  about  him  and  began  kissing  him 
and  hugging  him,  and  shaking  the  tears  from  his 
eyes  at  the  same  time;  and  when  the  embracing 
was  over  and  he  felt  ashamed  of  his  tears  he 
looked  down  and  said: 

"Cette  sacree  cuisse  me  fait  mal,"  and  Jack 

242 


Great  Days 

burst  into  laughter,  while  Chichet  danced  a  sort  of 
hornpipe  at  the  door,  and  Suzanne  said: 

"I  must  just  have  a  look  at  the  servant;  little 
uncle  got  her  for  me,  but  she's  not  a  good  cook 
and  I  want  everything  good  to-day.  Marie ! 
Marie!" 


243 


CHAPTER  V 

SUZANNE'S  affection  and  the  old  Colonel's 
joy  at  the  meeting  moved  Jack  intensely. 
After  telling  all  his  news  and  hearing  all  theirs, 
Including  a  story  of  how  Weetman  had  managed 
to  get  cognac  into  the  prison  by  persuading  the 
warder  that  It  was  the  only  thing  with  which 
English  sailors  cleaned  their  clothes,  Jack  turned 
quietly  to  the  old  Colonel : 

"I  came  back  before  my  time.  Colonel,  to  marry 
Suzanne.    Will  you  give  her  to  me?" 

The  announcement  brought  about  another  great 
scene.  The  Colonel  embraced  Jack  many  times 
while  Suzanne  cried  a  Httle  out  of  sheer  happi- 
ness. Dr.  Sauvan  came  in  and  heard  the  news 
and  after  sucking  his  upper  lip  for  a  moment,  pro- 
posed to  make  the  arrangements.  Jack  was  aston- 
ished to  hear  from  him  that  he  would  have  to 
get  his  father's  written  consent  to  the  wedding. 

While  waiting  for  this  the  old  life  went  on 
as  before.  Jack  even  took  up  his  fencing  bouts 
with  the  Colonel  and  Chichet,  and  was  delighted 

244 


Great  Days 

to  find  that  his  skill  seemed  to  have  increased  with 
his  rest.  But  for  some  reason  or  other,  though 
the  life  was  the  same  and  as  pleasant  as  ever, 
Jack  felt  that  everything  had  changed.  Thinking 
over  it  at  night  a  good  simile  occurred  to  him : 
he  remembered  one  summer  evening  slipping  out 
to  sea  in  the  old  Dolphin  under  a  jib  with  the 
mainsail  half  hoisted;  as  they  slid  past  the  little 
pier  all  the  people  on  it  seemed  to  be  moving  and 
Jack  and  the  people  about  him  on  the  deck  were 
quite  still;  whereas,  of  course.  Jack  and  the  vessel 
were  moving  while  the  spectators  were  standing 
still.  So  now  he  found  that  his  view  of  all  these 
people,  of  Sauvan  and  Chichet  and  Caressa,  and 
even  of  Suzanne  herself  had  all  altered  mysteri- 
ously. Sauvan  had  seemed  to  him  very  reasonable 
and  fair-minded.  Jack  was  now  struck  by  a 
peevish  precision  and  pedantry  in  him.  He  was 
selfish  and  of  light  weight  Jack  felt;  his  philos- 
opher had  dwindled  to  an  empty  formalist. 
Chichet  he  saw  was  rather  clever  and  self-seeking; 
when  fencing  he  often  let  himself  be  pinked  by 
the  Colonel  when  he  could  easily  have  avoided  it; 
he  was  always  the  first  to  notice  and  applaud  any 
good  stroke  of  the  Governor  or  of  Jack. 

Suzanne  and  the  little  Colonel  had  altered  least 
of  all.    Perhaps  it  was  that  Jack  had  known  them 

245 


Great  Days 

best  before.  Suzanne  was  so  occupied  with  baby 
linen,  so  delighted  at  being  able  to  talk  of  it  all 
freely  that  she  was  just  as  vivid,  quick-tempered 
and  quick-tongued  as  she  had  been  at  first.  She 
had  long  conferences  with  Marie,  and  Jack  often 
heard  her  berating  the  servant,  but  she  had  a 
good  heart  and  was  as  generous  and  forgiving 
as  she  was  passionate ;  a  true  daughter  of  France. 

When  Jack  told  Caressa  about  his  exchange 
he  was  delighted  to  find  that  it  was  no  longer 
necessary;  General  Bonaparte  had  granted  the 
little  Colonel's  request,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the 
curt  official  letter  had  written  in  his  own  hand: 
Accords — souvenir  de  Lodi.  Bonaparte:  so  Jack 
was  free,  and  as  peace  negotiations  were  going 
on  between  the  two  countries  it  looked  as  if  the 
rest  of  the  British  sailors  would  soon  regain  their 
liberty.  Jack  paid  more  than  one  visit  to  them 
and  found  they  were  all  fairly  well  content  though 
pining  as  only  sailors  can  pine  for  perfect  free- 
dom. Gosport  had  gone  thinner,  while  Weet- 
man  had  grown  much  stouter.  Both  were  glad 
to  see  Jack,  and  on  hearing  the  news  of  Jack's 
engagement  Gosport  pressed  him  to  ask  the 
Colonel  for  their  freedom.  Jack  promised  to  take 
the  first  opportunity  of  doing  this. 

His  father's  consent  to  the  marriage  came  in 

246 


Great  Days 

due  course,  accompanied  by  a  very  characteristic 
little  letter : 

"I  wish  you  all  luck,"  his  father  wrote,  "but  I 
cannot  help  thinking  it  would  have  been  wiser 
of  you  to  have  stayed  at  home.  You  are  too 
young  to  marry." 

The  words  conjured  up  the  whole  scene  and 
all  the  friends  and  interests  Jack  had  in  Hurst- 
point.  None  of  them  drew  him  strongly  except  his 
father,  and  he  didn't  take  much  interest  in  any- 
one else  except  Margaret.  What  would  she  think 
when  she  heard  the  news?  he  wondered. 

Meantime  he  slipped  into  the  French  life  of  the 
Governor's  house  with  perfect  comfort. 

They  were  married  at  the  Mairie  one  morning. 
Jack  was  astonished  to  find  that  the  ceremony 
made  no  difference  whatever  to  him.  He  lived 
openly  now  with  Suzanne,  and  that  was  the  only 
change;  otherwise  everything  went  on  as  before. 

Almost  immediately  after  the  wedding  time 
began  to  hang  heavily  on  Jack's  hands.  He  got 
the  old  Colonel  to  write  a  letter  to  Bonaparte 
telling  of  his  daughter's  marriage  to  an  English- 
man and  praying  that  he  might  be  allowed  to 
send  home  a  dozen  English  sailors  whom  his 
son-in-law  represented  as  having  people  dependent 
on  them.    In  a  little  while  the  petition  came  back 

247 


Great  Days 

granted.  It  was  Bonaparte's  cue  at  the  moment 
to  show  himself  generous  to  the  Enghsh,  for  he 
desired  peace.  But  his  wonderful  memory  and 
his  even  more  astonishing  personal  kindness  to 
all  those  connected  with  his  early  triumphs  was 
proved  to  Jack  by  the  words  scrawled  on  the  side : 

"Rien  pour  toi-meme.''     B. 

The  little  Colonel  put  this  carefully  away  with 
the  uniform  in  which  he  had  been  wounded  and 
talked  more  about  his  hero  than  ever.  As  Bona- 
parte rose  to  greater  power  and  fame  the  Colon- 
el's admiration  of  his  benefactor  grew  into  adora- 
tion. 

When  Jack  took  the  news  of  their  freedom  to 
Gosport  and  Weetman  he  was  surprised  to  find 
Gosport  a  little  ungrateful,  as  he  thought.  Weet- 
man was  delighted  to  get  back  to  Hurstpoint  and 
the  port-side  public  house,  but  Gosport  seemed 
reluctant  to  go  away,  declared  that  there  would 
be  nothing  for  him  to  do  without  Jack,  wanted 
to  wait  for  him.  At  length  Jack  arranged  for 
him  to  go  to  Pin's  at  Boulogne  and  there  get 
into  touch  with  Riding  and  send  him  all  the  home 
news  he  could. 

After  the  English  sailors  left  Jack  got  into  the 

248 


Great  Days 

habit  of  going  nearly  every  afternoon  to  Sauvan's 
house  either  to  borrow  a  book  or  to  talk  to  the 
doctor  about  the  one  he  had  just  been  reading. 
In  the  course  of  three  or  four  months  he  got 
through  most  of  the  French  classics  and  a  great 
many  of  the  newer  writers,  particularly  Rousseau 
and  Madame  de  Stael.  In  Rousseau  he  found  ex- 
quisite descriptions  of  natural  scenery;  it  was  as 
if  nature's  loveliness  had  been  re-discovered  about 
this  time,  so  keen  was  the  pleasure  everyone  took 
in  St.  Pierre's  descriptions  of  tropical  scenery  and 
Rousseau's  paintings  of  Swiss  landscapes. 

The  direct  teaching  of  these  books  too  had  a 
very  real  effect  on  Jack;  their  constant  appeal  to 
the  reason  was  re-echoed  in  life  in  the  most  ex- 
traordinary way.  People  talked  of  abstract  rea- 
son as  a  sort  of  final  judge  which  all  civilized  per- 
sons must  sooner  or  later  acknowledge;  a  republi- 
can government  seemed  to  them  rational;  to  call 
everyone  "citoyen"  and  "citoyenne"  was  nothing 
but  a  reasonable  proof  of  equality,  and  this  love 
of  reason  appeared  to  Jack  hopeful  and  convinc- 
ing. Every  now  and  then,  it  is  true,  vague  doubts 
came  to  him  more  as  feelings  than  as  thoughts. 

Passing  outside  La  Trinite  one  day  he  heard 
the  choir  chanting  and  went  away  wondering  why 
the  music  of  adeste  fideles  kept  singing  itself  to 

249 


Great  Days 

him  freighted  with  an  extraordinary  appeal. 
Little  problems  too  came  up  which  reason  didn't 
seem  to  solve  satisfactorily.  One  incident  that 
happened  about  this  time  helped  to  clear  his 
mind. 

A  mother  had  left  a  child  by  a  post  while  she 
went  a  few  paces  along  the  dockside  to  talk  to 
her  husband  who  was  working  on  board  a  little 
schooner.  The  man  went  below  to  find  some- 
thing that  his  wife  wanted  and  suddenly  the  baby- 
girl,  who  had  crawled  to  the  edge,  tumbled  into 
the  water  eight  or  ten  feet  below.  Jack,  who  was 
passing,  noticed  that  there  were  no  steps  within 
twenty  yards  and  that  probably  the  baby  would 
sink  if  he  didn't  go  to  its  rescue.  He  threw  off 
his  coat  at  once  and  jumped  in  beside  it.  When 
he  came  to  the  surface  he  held  the  baby  up  with 
one  hand  and  swam  with  the  other  to  the  steps. 
The  mother  thanked  him  effusively,  kissing  his 
hands  and  crying  out  about  his  bravery.  The 
father,  too,  seemed  a  good  deal  moved.  Jack 
was  delighted  to  get  away  from  their  gratitude 
into  dry  clothes. 

That  evening  the  woman  came  to  the  prison 
and  told  everything,  and  when  she  had  gone  away 
a  great  discussion  arose.  Sauvan  declared  that 
Jack  had  done  wrong;  he  had  no  business  to  risk 

250 


Great  Days 

his  life,  which  was  valuable  to  the  state  and  per- 
haps to  humanity,  for  the  life  of  a  little  child. 
It  was  absurd;  suppose  he  had  been  drowned,  it 
would  have  been  a  bad  action;  he  would  have 
given  away  something  valuable  to  the  community 
for  almost  nothing.  His  duty  was  to  try  to  save 
the  baby  from  the  dockside  without  risking  his 
own  life. 

The  little  Colonel  wouldn't  have  this  reasoning 
at  any  price;  a  sailor  or  a  soldier  ought  always 
to  be  ready,  he  thought,  to  throw  away  his  life 
for  humanity.  It  was  a  good  example,  and  "Sacre 
Bleu,  a  good  example  is  always  worth  a  life." 

The  argument  between  the  two  protagonists 
got  very  warm.  Sauvan  began  to  sneer  at  irra- 
tional sentimentality  and  the  little  Colonel  declared 
that  only  cowards  were  perfectly  reasonable,  and 
was  rather  inclined  to  think  that  perfectly  reason- 
able men  were  all  cowards,  which  led  at  length 
to  Sauvan  standing  up  and  putting  on  his  hat  with 
offended  dignity  and  silently  taking  his  leave. 

After  he  had  gone  the  Colonel  appealed  to 
both  Jack  and  Suzanne,  and  Jack  was  very  well 
pleased  to  find  that  Suzanne  was  just  as  warm  an 
admirer  of  what  she  called  his  heroism  as  even 
the  little  Colonel. 

"Old  Sauvan,"   she   said,   "reminds  me  of  a 

251 


Great  Days 

dock;  he  can  tell  you  the  exact  time  if  ever  any- 
body wants  to  know  it,  though  it  never  did  any- 
one any  good  to  know  it,  but  he  can't  make  a 
single  minute  happier  to  anyone." 

Thinking  the  matter  over  Jack  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  irrational  view  of  the  little 
Colonel  and  Suzanne  pleased  him  better,  seemed 
nearer  right  than  the  rational  argument  put  for- 
ward so  persistently  by  the  doctor. 

With  the  birth  of  the  child,  a  little  girl,  Jack 
felt  himself  more  and  more  at  a  loose  end. 
Suzanne  was  completely  taken  up  with  the  baby 
and  the  old  Colonel  seemed  as  devoted  to  his 
grandniece  as  the  mother.  Jack's  active  spirit 
began  to  demand  work  more  and  more  im- 
periously. 

About  this  time  a  letter  came  from  Gosport 
telling  Jack  that  there  were  new  developments  in 
the  smugglers'  camp,  for  peace  negotiations  were 
on  foot  and  smuggling  would,  no  doubt,  increase 
extraordinarily  as  soon  as  peace  was  declared; 
he  begged  Jack  to  come  at  once  and  take  a  hand 
in  the  old  game.  Jack  put  it  all  before  the  Colonel 
and  the  Colonel  felt  too  that  it  would  be  a  good 
thing  for  Jack  to  get  his  fortune  into  his  own 
hands  and  to  increase  it  if  possible.  He  encour- 
aged him  to  go  and  see  how  the  land  lay,  and 

252 


Great  Days 

Suzanne  hardly  attempted  to  keep  her  husband 
at  home.  She,  too,  had  seen  Jack's  impatient 
fretting  and  had  felt  that  perhaps  it  would  be 
better  for  him  to  get  something  to  do.  He  was 
like  a  dog  on  the  chain.  His  natural  good  temper 
was  getting  irritated  by  the  enforced  inaction. 
Before  starting  for  Boulogne  Jack  promised 
Suzanne  to  come  for  her  or  send  if  he  had  to 
pass  any  considerable  time  in  England. 

He  went  straight  to  Pin's  inn  at  Boulogne  and 
found  the  conditions  much  as  Gosport  had  stated 
them;  peace  was  in  the  air  and  the  smugglers 
had  already  increased  in  numbers.  Riding  came 
over  in  the  first  week  and  he  agreed  that  as  soon 
as  peace  was  declared  there  would  be  a  great 
opening  for  profitable  deahng,  for  not  only  brandy 
but  all  French  wines  had  gone  up  threefold  and 
fourfold  in  price,  and  the  first  cargoes  would  fetch 
a  fortune. 

Naturally  enough  Chips'  undertaking  to  build 
a  brigantine  faster  than  anything  in  the  narrow 
seas  came  into  Jack's  mind.  He  found  that  both 
Gosport  and  Riding  believed  in  Chips'  capacity, 
and  that  Gosport  had  new  ideas  on  the  subject  of 
a  ship's  speed;  ideas  won  from  American  prac- 
tice. He  believed  in  broader  ships  than  the 
English   model,    declaring   that   they   had   equal 

253 


Great  Days 

stability  and  were  therefore  as  fast  in  strong 
winds  and  far  faster  in  light  ones.  Chips,  he  said, 
was  the  only  man  in  England  who  agreed  with 
him.  He  thought  that  if  Chips  were  given  a  free 
hand  he  would  produce  an  extraordinary  vessel. 

Jack  resolved  to  consult  his  father  and,  after 
writing  to  his  wife  and  the  Colonel,  he  went  on 
board  the  Dolphin  with  Gosport  and  was  put 
across  to  Hurstpoint. 


254 


CHAPTER  VI 

IT  is  almost  impossible  to  put  the  events  of 
the  next  two  or  three  years  in  any  orderly 
and  clear  sequence.  To  Jack  himself  they  always 
appeared  a  confused  welter;  there  was  no  path 
across  the  waters.  Life  was  dull  to  him  for  the 
first  time;  it  had  lost  its  intense  zest;  the  purposes 
of  it  and  the  prizes  all  seemed  paltry;  he  floated 
hither  and  thither  like  a  water-logged  ship  sinking 
gradually  lower  and  lower.  Without  confessing 
it  to  himself,  he  was  tired  of  his  marriage;  he 
was  very  young  and  had  in  excess  the  faults  of 
youth.  He  was  quick,  eager,  daring,  a  lover  of 
risks  and  adventures,  content  so  long  as  life  held 
ever-new  excitement.  In  many  ways  marriage 
closed  the  door,  limited  the  horizon.  At  every 
moment  he  was  conscious  of  the  change;  girls 
spoke  to  him  differently;  were  not  so  inclined  to 
flirt  with  him.  Men  thought  less  of  him,  too; 
it  was  clear  that  he  had  fallen  in  public  esteem. 
He  resented  the  change,  and  the  tie  of  marriage 
dragged  on  him  beyond  reason.    He  hated  having 

255 


Great  Days 

to  say  where  he  was  going  or  where  he  had  been; 
he  was  not  a  child  he  thought  to  be  so  schooled, 
and  Suzanne  was  very  suspicious  and  outspoken, 
and  exceedingly  jealous;  she  did  not  make  the 
bond  lighter,  far  from  it;  her  very  tenderness,  the 
frankness  of  her  abandon  worked  against  her. 
Jack  soon  felt  regret,  and  admitted  to  himself  that 
Suzanne  could  be  a  mistress  or  a  mother,  but 
could  never  be  a  companion. 

She  expected  him  to  be  greatly  interested  in 
her  clothes  and  hats,  and  in  the  way  she  took  care 
of  their  child  and  the  house.  She  seemed  to  be 
always  looking  for  praise  or  for  kisses  and  caress- 
ings,  like  a  baby  for  lollipops,  and  he  soon  realised 
that  her  mind  was  a  child-mind,  utterly  immature 
and  complacently  self-satisfied.  He  was  surprised 
now  and  then  to  find  that  she  had  a  certain  interest 
in  people  and  a  quick  feminine  understanding  of 
their  faults  and  vanities;  but  he  never  guessed 
that  a  little  encouragement  from  him  would  have 
set  her  trying  to  develop  this  power  of  compre- 
hension with  astonishing  results. 

Very  soon  after  their  marriage  he  asked  him- 
self how  he  could  ever  have  imagined  that  he 
loved  her;  she  was  pretty,  but  that  seemed  so 
little  now,  and  he  could  never  talk  to  her,  he 
groaned  to  himself;  their  tetes-a-tetes  were  either 

256 


Great  Days 

passages  of  passion  or  a  quarrel,  and  generally 
began  in  the  one  and  ended  in  the  other. 

What  he  ought  to  have  done  hardly  concerns 
us  for  the  moment;  what  he  did  do  is  not  very 
clear,  for  he  seems  to  have  thrown  himself  head- 
long into  every  distraction  that  offered  in  order 
to  deaden  thought  and  stifle  regret. 

As  soon  as  he  reached  Hurstpoint  he  busied 
himself  about  the  new  vessel;  he  talked  it  all 
over  with  his  father  and  Chips,  and  forthwith 
gave  the  shipwright  the  order  to  make  a  brlgantine 
of  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  tons  which  Gosport 
was  to  arm.  But  the  keel  of  the  little  clipper  was 
hardly  laid  down  when  he  had  to  return  to 
Suzanne  in  France.  She  wrote  him  every  day, 
and  every  week  or  so  brought  him  a  packet  of 
her  letters;  she  could  not  live  without  him;  he 
must  come  back;  and  when  he  went  back  he  found 
it  was  merely  his  presence  she  wanted.  She  had 
nothing  to  give  him  except  herself,  and  it  didn't 
enter  her  head  to  vary  or  enhance  the  gift. 

In  two  or  three  months  Jack  was  weary  to 
yawning;  he  had  to  return  to  England,  he  said, 
to  see  how  the  vessel  was  going  on;  as  soon  as 
he  was  alone  his  spirits  began  to  rise.  On  reach- 
ing Hurstpoint  he  found  his  father  had  married 

257 


Great  Days 

Nancy,  who  seemed  very  happy,  and  was  cheekier 
than  ever. 

After  a  week  or  two  at  the  Inn,  Jack  noticed 
that  his  sister  was  getting  very  religious ;  she  was 
going  about  a  good  deal  with  young  Carrol  and 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  Cecil  Barron  com- 
pletely, perhaps  because  he  had  almost  deserted 
the  village  for  London. 

Some  time  in  the  summer  the  brigantine  was 
launched,  and  then  rigged  out  and  tuned  up  in 
cruise  after  cruise  by  Chips.  There  was  no  doubt 
that  she  was  exceedingly  fast,  much  faster  even 
than  the  Dolphin,  and  for  some  weeks  Jack  took 
immense  delight  in  getting  everything  into  order 
on  board  and  bringing  his  crew  to  the  highest 
pitch  of  efficiency. 

By  this  time  Suzanne's  letters  were  getting  im- 
portunate again.  His  father  thought  he  ought  to 
bring  her  over,  and  after  some  time  Jack  resolved 
to  do  this  because  Suzanne  wanted,  she  said,  to 
meet  his  father  and  to  see  what  English  life  was 
like. 

When  peace  was  made  in  the  early  part  of  the 
next  year,  Jack  took  The  Grange,  furnished  as  it 
was,  and  installed  his  wife  there.  From  the  be- 
ginning the  experiment  didn't  turn  out  well.  If 
Suzanne  was  lonely  in  France  without  her  husband, 

258 


Great  Days 

she  was  ten  times  as  lonely  at  The  Grange  without 
anyone  to  talk  to,  and  imprisoned,  as  she  said, 
among  people  she  couldn't  understand.  Emily 
did  her  best  for  her,  it  is  true,  for  a  little  while ; 
young  Carrol  came  too  and  aired  his  French,  but 
none  of  the  county  people  ever  called,  and  the 
poor  girl  spent  the  greater  part  of  her  time  alone. 
Her  baby,  even,  and  Jack  were  not  sufficient  to 
fill  up  the  void;  she  quickly  became  discontented 
and  fell  out  of  sorts.  As  ill  luck  would  have  it, 
the  summer  was  dark  and  rainy  and  the  sun 
seemed  to  show  itself  as  rarely  in  June  as  it 
usually  does  in  December. 

Jack  took  his  wife  out  for  drives,  but  she  didn't 
like  the  country;  it  was  never  gay,  she  said,  never 
warm  and  bright;  he  took  her  to  church,  too, 
but  the  gentlefolk  didn't  appear  to  know  them. 
His  sister  said  they  resented  his  marrying  a 
French  woman.  Margaret  Barron,  it  is  true, 
bowed  and  smiled  pleasantly,  but  Selwyn  was  with 
her  and  Selwyn  didn't  appear  to  see  Jack  and 
managed  to  keep  Margaret  to  himself.  Suzanne 
noticed  Margaret's  greeting,  for,  after  she  had 
reached  home,  she  wanted  to  know  who  the  perch- 
pole  was  who  had  bowed,  and  when  Jack  an- 
swered that  Margaret  was  an  old  friend,  she  went 

259 


Great  Days 

on  to  mimic  her  smile  and  caricature  her  dress  till 
Jack  stared  at  her  spitefulness. 

The  crisis  did  not  come  at  once,  for  In  spite  of 
domestic  troubles  the  year  held  some  good 
moments  in  it.  As  soon  as  peace  was  declared, 
Jack  took  the  brigantine  down  to  Bordeaux  and 
returned  with  a  large  cargo  of  fine  brandies  and 
wines.  The  trade  was  highly  profitable  and  very 
interesting  as  well,  besides  supplying  Jack  with 
excellent  reasons  for  being  away  from  home. 

All  this  windy  and  rainy  summer  Suzanne  was 
nearly  deserted;  she  had  no  one  to  talk  to  except 
the  maid,  Marie,  whom  she  had  brought  with 
her  and  her  baby,  and  she  pined  for  familiar  talk 
and  human  companionship. 

From  the  very  first  meeting  Suzanne's  dislike 
of  England  and  the  English  seemed  to  concen- 
trate itself  on  Margaret  Barron.  Jack  often 
wondered  at  this  intuitive  enmity.  Without  in- 
tending it  Suzanne  kept  his  thoughts  fixed  on 
Margaret  and  he  couldn't  but  contrast  the  two  to 
Suzanne's  disadvantage.  If  he  was  out  late  at 
the  port  or  the  Inn  she  was  sure  to  ask  him 
whether  he  had  been  with  the  eel;  she  never  spoke 
of  Margaret  but  in  nick-names,  and  her  jealousy 
annoyed  Jack  beyond  reason,  for  it  had  no  foun- 
dation at  least  for  some  time,  and  as  it  made  the 

260 


Great  Days 

house  intolerable  he  took  to  spending  a  good  deal 
of  his  spare  time  at  the  Inn. 

One  day  he  was  going  home  from  the  port 
when  Margaret  came  towards  him  from  the  road 
which  led  to  the  Rectory;  he  bowed  to  her  and 
walked  beside  her.  She  wanted  to  see  him,  for 
she  had  just  heard  from  Carrol  that  he  was  al- 
ways in  the  Inn  and  drinking  too  much,  and  she 
felt  annoyed  with  him,  but  she  concealed  this  and 
asked  him  simply  how  he  was  getting  on. 

"I'm  not  getting  anywhere,"  he  confessed  bit- 
terly, "marking  time  or  worse." 

His  hopelessness  took  away  her  anger  and 
made  her  eager  to  help  him. 

"It  was  your  wife  I  saw  in  church  the  other 
day,  wasn't  it?"  she  began.  "Why  don't  you 
bring  her  up  to  The  Court?  Mother  would  be 
glad  to  see  her,  and  I  would  try  to  make  things 
pleasant  for  her.  Jack?" 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you,"  he  answered,  "but  she 
only  speaks  French  and  she's  lonely  here." 

"That's  natural  enough,"  Margaret  went  on. 
"Do  bring  her  up  and  let's  try  to  make  it  pleasant 
for  her.     You've  a  little  girl,  haven't  you?" 

Jack  nodded. 

"You  mustn't  avoid  your  friends." 

Jack  retorted  bitterly.     "It  is  the  friends  avoid 

261 


Great  Days 

iis.    Didn't  you  see  at  church  how  they  all  cut  us?" 

"You  mustn't  be  hard  on  them,"  replied  Mar- 
garet. "They  don't  know  much  French  and  they 
hate  to  appear  ridiculous;  that's  the  cause  of  their 
standoffishness,  believe  me.  If  your  wife  would 
begin  to  talk  English  they  would  call  and  try  to 
help  her." 

Jack  shook  his  head.  "She  won't;  she  hates 
the  English  and  England,  Margaret." 

"You  must  be  patient  with  her." 

"I'm  not  patient,"  cried  Jack.  "I  seem  to  have 
lost  hope;  life  is  finished  for  me.  I  have  missed 
the  way  somehow." 

His  bitterness  thrilled  her,  but  her  very 
sympathy  made  her  even  more  direct  than  usual. 

"The  way  doesn't  lead  to  the  Inn,"  she  took 
heart  to  say. 

"So  the  parson's  been  talking,"  cried  Jack. 
"Damn  him!" 

"That's  unfair  of  you,"  she  broke  in  seriously. 
"Carrol  thinks  a  great  deal  of  you — we  all  do; 
you  should  justify  our  high  opinion." 

"If  I  could  have  a  talk  with  you  now  and  then," 
said  Jack,  "I  would  be  able  to  go  on,  but  I'm 
about  as  hopeless  as  a  man  can  be,  and  I'm  not 
worth  spending  talk  upon." 

Margaret  looked  at  him:     "I  nearly  always 

262 


Great  Days 

go  down  to  the  vicarage  on  Tuesdays  and  Thurs- 
days and  return  home  about  six;  if  you  cared  you 
could  walk  a  part  of  the  way  with  me — as  far  as 
the  forked  roads,"  she  added,  "where  our  ways 
separate." 

The  last  words  made  Jack  wince,  but  he  thanked 
her  and  took  her  at  her  word. 

The  news  soon  got  about  the  village  that  Jack 
Morgan  and  Miss  Barron  were  always  meeting 
and  walking  together;  the  walks  were  innocent 
enough,  though  both  Margaret  and  Jack  delighted 
in  them.  The  intellectual  likeness  between  them 
made  the  unlikenesses  interesting.  Since  their 
first  meeting  at  The  Court,  Margaret  had  always 
been  ready  to  receive  new  impressions  from  him — 
was  indeed  always  in  a  state  of  expectancy,  while 
Jack  realised  that  he  was  strangely  eager  for  her 
praise,  and  intensely  pleased  with  it,  for  she  only 
gave  it  when  it  was  extorted  by  some  real  quality. 
Of  late,  this  intellectual  sympathy  was  curiously 
quickened;  Jack's  hopeless  position  called  forth 
all  Margaret's  sympathy  and  her  kindness  intensi- 
fied his  sensuality:  the  bodily  attraction  between 
them  became  insistent.  Margaret  was  infinitely 
desirable  to  Jack;  the  mere  sight  of  her  thrilled 
and  excited  him,  and  she  was  just  as  conscious  of 
the  deeper  interest  she  felt  in  him.     She  was  an- 

263 


Great  Days 

noyed  with  herself  indeed  for  the  obsession  of  the 
feeling;  it  was  a  sort  of  angry  curiosity  in  her  that 
made  her  turn  Carrol's  talk  or  his  sister's  talk 
always  to  Jack  and  his  married  life,  and  when 
one  told  her  of  his  drinking  and  the  other  of  his 
unhappiness  she  tried  to  be  indifferent  or  impar- 
tial, but  in  herself  was  deliciously  fluttered  and 
flattered. 

Every  meeting  seemed  to  weave  fresh  bonds 
between  them.  Jack  found  that  telling  Margaret 
all  that  he  had  seen  and  done  made  everything 
clearer  to  him,  and  in  the  same  way  he  brought 
French  life  before  her  just  as  vividly  by  his  re- 
ports of  what  he  had  witnessed  and  heard.  His 
exciting  stories  and  experiences  had  a  singular 
attraction  for  her;  the  very  danger  of  the  life 
he  had  led  interested  her  enormously.  They  both 
felt  that  the  time  spent  together  was  always  too 
short. 

One  day  as  they  stood  talking  at  the  forked 
roads  before  separating,  Suzanne  saw  them;  she 
had  come  out  after  putting  the  baby  to  bed,  hoping 
to  meet  Jack,  and  as  she  walked  round  the  bend 
in  the  road  she  saw  him  talking  with  the  woman 
she  most  disliked.  Suzanne  stopped  short;  she 
didn't  know  what  to  do,  but  she  wanted  to  see  on 
what  terms  they  would  part.     "He's  in  love  with 

264 


Great  Days 

that  tall  beast,"  she  cried  to  herself  in  fear  and 
anger,  and  the  next  moment  she  had  slipped 
through  a  gate  and  was  watching  the  pair  from 
behind  the  hedge,  ducking  down  as  soon  as  either 
of  them  cast  a  glance  In  her  direction. 

To  her  mortification  and  rage  she  had  nearly 
half  an  hour  to  wait.  When  they  parted  it  was 
merely  with  a  hand  clasp  and  a  bow.  Margaret 
did  not  turn  once  to  look  after  him  Suzanne 
noticed.  "Cold  and  stuck  up,"  she  said  to  herself. 
"What  does  he  see  in  her?"  she  asked  in  bitter- 
ness of  heart. 

Jack  came  down  the  road  towards  her  with  his 
head  bent  as  if  in  reflection. 

Suzanne  thought  of  surprising  him  and  then 
concluded  it  would  be  best  to  follow  him  home 
and  to  say  nothing  about  the  occurrence  in  order 
to  learn  more,  but  when  she  got  into  the  house 
and  found  him  lost  in  a  book  she  could  not  change 
her  anger  to  indifference  in  a  moment  or  conceal 
her  temper. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  asked  at  length  in 
French. 

"You  know  very  well,"  she  replied  sullenly, 
looking  at  him  with  hurt,  hating  eyes. 

"I  do  not,"  he  replied  carelessly.  He  had  per- 
suaded himself  that  his  meetings  with  Margaret 

265 


Great  Days 

were  mere  talks;  he  hadn't  even  kissed  her  hand. 

"She  nnust  be  a  pretty  creature,"  cried  Suzanne, 
"that  English  girl  who  makes  love  to  a  married 
man." 

"I  don't  know  whom  you  mean,"  Jack  replied. 
"There's  no  girl  making  love  to  me." 

"I  saw  you  at  the  corner,"  cried  Suzanne, 
"talking  to  the  'perchpole,'  "  and  she  mimicked 
Margaret's  way  of  holding  herself.  "I  suppose 
she  was  your  mistress  before  you  married  me?" 

Jack  revolted,  "You  mustn't  say  such  things." 

"I'll  say  what  I  like,"  cried  Suzanne,  "and  it's 
true;  anyone  can  see  it;  she's  in  love  with  you  and 
follows  you  to  your  own  door,  the  slut!" 

Jack  got  up  and  went  out  of  the  house.  When 
he  returned  it  was  nightfall,  but  Suzanne's  anger, 
which  had  died  down  in  his  absence,  flamed  up 
again  at  his  silence  and  set  face. 

"I  want  to  go  back  home,"  she  said  the  moment 
he  entered  the  room.  "I  can't  live  in  this  beastly 
country  or  with  you.  You  leave  me  alone  all  day 
to  go  about  with  another  woman  and  when  you 
return,  you  sit  silent  or  you  read;  it  is  enough  to 
drive  one  mad.  I  have  no  one  to  talk  to — I  am 
so  unhappy,"  and  she  choked. 

Jack  took  her  in  his  arms  and  tried  to  persuade 
her  that  her  suspicions  were  imaginary,  but  as 

266 


Great  Days 

soon  as  he  mentioned  Margaret  she  flamed  again; 
she  would  not  hear  of  her.  If  Jack  could  have 
persuaded  himself  to  speak  against  Margaret  or 
to  speak  contemptuously  of  her,  Suzanne  would 
have  forgiven  him,  but  the  thought  of  doing  so 
didn't  enter  his  head;  he  kept  Margaret  resolutely 
out  of  the  petty  squabble;  he  wouldn't  have  her 
degraded  with  vile  names,  and  Suzanne  felt  his 
reticence  and  raged  against  it. 

"ril  go  home,"  she  cried.  "I  hate  the  English 
and  their  country.  I  and  my  baby  will  die  if  we 
stay  here.  Why  can't  you  take  me  back?  You 
don't  want  me.  .  .   ." 

She  raged  and  begged  till  he  promised  to  do 
her  will. 

Of  course  he  thought  that  next  day  it  would 
all  blow  over  and  be  forgotten,  and  on  the  morrow 
Suzanne  said  nothing  about  returning.  But  a  few 
days  later  Jack  stopped  at  the  port  till  it  was 
dark,  and  when  he  got  back  home  he  found 
Suzanne  raging  and  more  discontented  than  ever. 
The  lonely  house  she  declared  frightened  her  to 
death:  there  were  noises  In  it;  she'd  had  Marie 
to  sit  with  her  the  whole  evening;  the  drip,  drip 
of  the  rain  terrified  her. 

Again  and  again  she  declared  he  must  take  her 
home;  she  would  die  if  confined  any  longer  in  the 

267 


Great  Days 

wretched  village  where  there  was  no  one  to  talk 
to,  nothing  to  see,  and  where  it  did  nothing  but 
rain  all  day  long. 

And  worse  was  to  come.  Suzanne  could  never 
get  that  meeting  between  Margaret  and  Jack  out 
of  her  head;  she  talked  to  Marie  about  it,  and  set 
her  to  watch.  They  soon  discovered  the  days  of 
meeting,  and  at  length  Suzanne  made  up  her  mind 
to  shame  her  rival. 

Since  the  first  scene  with  Suzanne,  Jack  was  con- 
scious of  his  love  for  Margaret  and  though  he 
would  not  admit  it  to  himself,  the  desire  to  know 
whether  she  cared  for  him  in  return,  as  Suzanne 
had  said,  became  almost  irresistible. 

One  day  he  met  her  when  he  was  in  a  very 
despairing  mood.  "There  is  nothing  to  do,"  he 
cried,  as  they  stood  at  the  parting  of  the  ways. 
"Nothing  I  No  way  of  escape  for  me.  Some- 
times I  think  I  shall  go  mad.  Meeting  you  like 
this  is  torture." 

Margaret's  eyes  dwelt  on  him: 

"What  can  I  do?"  she  asked  simply. 

"Say  that  you  care,  too,"  he  said.  "That 
would  ease  the  pain,  make  me  less  miserable." 
He  caught  her  hand  and  kissed  it. 

Before  she  could  reply  Suzanne  pushed  her  way 
through  the  hedge  screaming  in  French: 

268 


Great  Days 

"Kiss  her  mouth!  That's  what  she  wants,  the 
English  girl;  don't  mind  me.  I'm  nobody;  only 
your  v/ife!" 

Jack  turned  to  her. 

"Hush!     Hushl  for  God's  sake." 

But  Margaret  went  in  front  of  him: 

"I'm  sorry,"  she  said  in  French.  "I  should  not 
have  let  him,  but  it  is  the  first  time.  You  believe 
me?"  she  added  proudly,  holding  out  her  hand  to 
Suzanne  as  she  spoke. 

"I  believe  nothing,"  cried  Suzanne.  "You 
meet  my  husband  day  after  day  and  you  kiss 
him.  You  shall  not!  You  shall  not.  Get  a  man 
of  your  own,  can't  you?  but  leave  my  husband 
alone :  he  doesn't  want  you :  no  one  does." 

Margaret  retorted :  "I  told  him  to  marry  you : 
if  I  hadn't "  and  she  broke  off  flushing. 

The  taunt  and  her  proud  self-restraint  com- 
bined drove  Suzanne  wild: 

"You  told  him,"  she  shouted  in  French;  "you 
wanted  a  change,  eh?  and  now  you  want  him 
again " 

"I'm  sorry,"  interrupted  Margaret,  "but  you're 
unjust " 

"Take  him,"  screamed  Suzanne,  "take  him,  I 

leave  him  to  you "  and  she  rushed  away  in  a 

fury. 

269 


Great  Days 

Margaret  had  turned,  too,  and  gone  her  way. 

Jack  went  slowly  back  to  The  Grange  after 
Suzanne.  He  did  not  reproach  her:  he  felt  that 
it  was  all  ended;  that  Margaret  would  not  meet 
him  any  more,  and  that  conviction  drove  all  other 
thoughts  out  of  his  head;  he  was  cold  with  misery. 

His  silence  exasperated  Suzanne.  Next  day 
she  declared  that,  if  Jack  would  not  take  her  home, 
she'd  go  by  herself. 

She  was  so  cool,  so  determined,  that  at  length 
Jack  took  her  back  to  Cherbourg  and  spent  some 
little  time  there  with  her  and  the  Colonel. 

Before  the  end  of  the  year  he  was  as  tired  of 
Cherbourg  as  his  wife  had  been  tired  of  Hurst- 
point;  he  ached  with  longing  for  the  free  adven- 
turous life,  and  made  the  long,  dark  nights  the 
excuse  for  getting  back  to  what  he  called  "his 
work."  Suzanne  hardly  objected;  the  loneliness 
of  her  life  at  Hurstpoint  and  her  jealousy  of 
Margaret  had  estranged  her  from  her  husband; 
almost  killed  her  little  vain  affection.  No  doubt 
Jack  could  easily  have  won  her  again  had  he  so 
willed,  but  he  could  not  live  the  ordinary  life  with 
her  in  Cherbourg;  his  mind  seemed  to  stagnate 
in  it. 

Jack  returned  to  England  like  a  schoolboy 
who  gets  out  into  the  open  after  a  long  punish- 

270 


Great  Days 

ment.    He  shut  up  The  Grange  and  on  his  short 
'visits  to  Hurstpoint  put  up  at  the  Inn  and  resumed 
his   life   at  the   point  where   his   marriage   had 
broken  it  off. 

When  an  active  mind  is  deprived  of  play  and 
exercise,  the  tedium  of  living  soon  becomes  insup- 
portable; no  bodily  pleasure  makes  up  for  the 
lack  of  mental  stimulus;  the  intellect,  too,  will 
have  what  is  necessary  to  its  growth;  a  plant  will 
thrust  aside  paving  stones  to  reach  up  to  the  light. 

^r  T*  n*  n*  V  t*  ^ 

There  were  many  reasons  why  smuggling  after 
the  peace  of  Amiens  was  more  successful  than  it 
had  ever  been  before.  As  might  have  been  ex- 
pected the  desire  for  French  wines  and  brandies 
had  steadily  increased  all  through  the  years  of 
war  when  the  demand  had  been  far  greater  than 
the  supply.  With  peace  the  trade  became  ex- 
tremely profitable;  and  the  activity  of  the  pre- 
ventive officers  didn't  increase  in  like  measure. 
Indeed,  the  whole  service  on  the  English  side 
wanted  reorganization.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
seacoast  everywhere  were  against  the  Customs 
officers  and  men  and  gave  them  no  information; 
the  force  was  not  only  undermanned  but  unpop- 
ular.     Jack   found   it   easy  to   run   cargo   after 

271 


Great  Days 

cargo  all  through  the  winter.  Putting  up  at  the 
Inn  as  he  did  in  the  intervals  of  his  cruises  he 
began  to  drink,  as  men  of  that  day  drank,  a  great 
deal  more  than  was  good  for  him  and  the  habit  of 
successful  command  made  his  manners  rather  im- 
perious. 

About  this  time  he  deteriorated  rapidly.  He 
had  resented  the  coldness  which  the  gentry  had 
shown  him  on  his  marriage.  Now  finding  himself 
isolated  in  the  village  he  was  inclined  out  of  a 
spirit  of  antagonism  to  exaggerate  the  differences 
of  opinion  which  rendered  him  unpopular.  In  the 
Inn  parlour  he  was  continually  meeting  gentlemen 
to  whom  Bonaparte  was  a  sort  of  ogre  and  he 
amused  himself  by  picturing  him  as  a  hero.  Nine 
out  of  ten  Englishmen  regarded  everything  French 
with  disgust,  and  Jack  took  pleasure  in  showing 
them  how  mistaken  they  were.  It  was  fortunate 
for  him  that  he  was  only  in  the  Inn  for  short 
periods  of  time,  just  sufficient  to  dispose  of  the 
cargo  and  get  the  brig  ready  for  another  cruise; 
otherwise  his  presence  in  the  Inn  must  have  led 
to  frequent  quarrels. 

On  one  occasion  he  almost  came  to  blows  with 
Crosby;  another  time  he  made  fun  of  Myring 
and  turned  the  big  Lieutenant  into  an  enemy. 

One  evening,  as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  half  a 

272 


Great  Days 

dozen  gentlemen  were  In  the  Inn  when  Selwyn 
came  in  with  the  news  that  war  was  imminent. 
He  used  the  opportunity  to  goad  Jack  with  quiet 
sarcasm  and  hardly  concealed  contempt.  The 
truth  was  he  was  suffering  himself,  for  he  had  just 
been  refused  by  Margaret,  and  he  couldn't  help 
trying  to  score  off  Jack. 

"We  shall  now  see,"  he  said,  "whether  your 
hero  Buonaparte  is  able  to  beat  the  one-armed 
Nelson.  I  believe  we  shall  soon  hear  of  another 
battle  of  the  Nile." 

Jack  was  nothing  loth  to  take  up  the  argument. 
"What  could  Bonaparte  do,"  he  said,  "but  declare 
war  when  the  English  promised  to  give  up  Malta 
and  then  refused  to  do  it?  It  is  difficult  not  to 
fight  with  people  who  break  their  word.  But  per- 
haps Mr.  Selwyn  would  defend  broken  promises." 

The  word  exasperated  Selwyn,  who  considered 
that  Margaret  had  broken  an  implied  promise  to 
him,  and  in  reply  he  sneered  at  Bonaparte  as  the 
champion  liar  of  the  age. 

The  wordy  dispute  went  on  till  Selwyn  declared 
it  was  a  pity  that  Jack  had  no  right  to  wear  a 
sword:  and  Jack  replied  that  it  seemed  to  him 
the  majority  of  the  people  who  had  a  right 
to  wear  swords  were  glad  of  any  excuse  not  to 
use  them.     Selwyn  grew  very  pale  at  this  insult, 

273 


Great  Days 

and  spoke  aside  to  Nugent  and  Myring,  and  then 
all  three  got  up  and  left  the  room.  For  some 
weeks  after  this  Jack  had  the  Inn  almost  entirely 
to  himself :  the  officers  avoided  it  and  even  Crosby 
appeared  rarely.  One  day  Jack,  on  his  way  to 
the  port,  met  Colonel  Nugent  face  to  face,  and 
was  astonished  by  the  scarcely  perceptible  con- 
temptuous nod  he  received  in  return  for  his  greet- 
ing: he  couldn't  help  talking  to  Riding  about  it 
when  he  met  him  five  minutes  afterward,  and  Rid- 
ing gave  him  the  key  to  the  general  coldness. 
"Selwyn,"  he  said,  "on  the  matter  of  the  dispute, 
put  himself  in  the  hands  of  Nugent  and  Myring, 
declaring  he  was  perfectly  willing  to  meet  you 
with  swords  or  pistols,  as  they  might  choose,  if 
they  regarded  you  as  a  gentleman.  The  two  offi- 
cers, not  being  very  friendly  to  you,  declared  a 
duel  impossible,  said  that  you  couldn't  even  find 
a  gentleman  to  second  you,  that  you  had  no  right 
to  carry  a  sword  at  all,  or  to  pretend  equality  with 
gentlefolk.  You  were  received  by  the  Barrons 
because  in  war  class  distinctions  were  apt  to  be 
relaxed,  but  really  it  was  too  much  to  ask  them 
to  accept  a  publican's  son  as  an  equal.  They  both 
declared  that  Selwyn  was  quite  right  to  treat  your 
insult  with  disdain:  it  was  the  only  thing  to  do. 

274 


Great  Days 

For  themselves  they  would  in  future  have  as  little 
to  do  with  you  as  possible." 

The  decision  was  soon  put  about,  and  Jack  felt 
a  lowering  of  temperature,  so  to  speak,  which 
was  distinctly  unpleasant. 

Mr.  Carrol  even  lent  an  avowable  reason  to 
general  sentiment  by  preaching  a  sermon  against 
French  atheism  and  revolutionary  dogmas  which 
did  Jack  a  good  deal  of  harm  in  public  esteem. 

A  day  or  two  afterwards  he  saw  Margaret  near 
the  village,  but  she  hurried  past  without  stopping, 
giving  him  a  little  embarrassed  bow,  and  at  once 
he  felt  himself  despised  and  deserted.  He  could 
do  nothing  but  press  on  the  preparations  on 
board  the  brigantine,  and  then  return  to  the  Inn 
to  drink. 

Margaret's  coldness  was  inexplicable  to  him, 
and  intensely  painful:  it  came  to  him  as  a  blow 
from  the  one  person  he  trusted,  and  it  came  at  a 
moment  when  he  was  least  able  to  bear  it.  He 
had  grown  accustomed  to  live  from  meeting  to 
meeting  with  her;  he  had  nothing  else  in  his  life 
but  this  brief  occasional  joy,  and  now  he  recog- 
nised with  aching  heart  that  it,  too,  was  not  to  be 
reckoned  upon.  The  pain  of  the  disappointment 
taught  him  that  he  was  deeply  in  love  with  her, 
and  this  love  was  different  from  any  other  he  had 

275 


Great  Days 

known,  not  in  degree  merely,  but  in  kind;  it  fright- 
ened him  even  to  think  of  losing  it :  he  could  not 
face  the  pain,  the  drear  loneliness  of  life  without 
her  companionship :  he  was  ready  to  do  anything, 
he  said  to  himself,  to  suffer  anything  but  not  that 
dead  blank. 

The  realisation  of  the  precarious  slightness  of 
the  tie  between  them,  the  dread  lest  the  delightful 
intercourse  and  intimacy  should  have  ended  alto- 
gether, hastened  the  growth  of  his  love  to  over- 
powering passion.  For  just  as  it  is  the  wind 
threatening  to  uproot  the  tree  which  forces  it  to 
drive  its  roots  deeper  and  spread  them  more 
widely,  so  the  dangers  that  menace  the  existence 
of  love  give  it  greater  strength  and  holding 
power. 

After  brooding  and  drinking  for  some  time, 
Jack  made  up  his  mind  to  see  Margaret  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  have  a  definite  explanation  with  her; 
but  his  heart  knew  that  he  meant  to  make  a  last 
appeal  to  her.  As  soon  as  the  resolution  was 
taken,  his  spirits  rose :  he  was  too  young,  too  vig- 
orous to  beheve  in  disaster.  Strong  characters 
are  usually  the  most  constant  and  the  easiest  to 
persuade  themselves  of  constancy  in  others. 

The  cause  of  the  change  in  Margaret  was  not 
far  to  seek.     Selwyn  was  a  favourite  of  Lady 

276 


Great  Days 

Barron:  a  man  of  property  and  fashion,  she  said 
to  herself,  of  handsome  person  to  boot:  a  lover 
any  woman  would  be  proud  of.  Again  and  again 
she  had  detailed  his  advantages  to  Margaret. 
Lady  Barron  had  hardly  an  inkling  of  any  love 
that  did  not  gratify  vanity:  but  her  constant 
praising  of  Selwyn  had  less  than  no  effect  on  her 
daughter,  who  was  of  deeper  and  richer  tempera- 
ment, and  as  much  given  to  enthusiasms  as  her 
mother  to  vanities. 

From  girlhood  Margaret  had  made  a  sort  of 
hero  of  Jack.  When  he  came  to  The  Court  as  a 
man,  his  originality  of  dress  and  manner,  of 
speech  and  thought  woke  her  admiration  again. 
It  flattered  her  to  feel  that  she  was  like  him  in 
mind  and  character:  indeed,  the  only  person  able 
to  understand  and  sympathise  with  him;  his  singu- 
larity was  as  dear  to  her  as  her  own:  she  hugged 
herself  with  the  belief  that  they  were  unlike  any 
other  pair  in  the  world. 

The  shock  of  hearing  of  his  intimacy  with  Su- 
zanne almost  made  her  betray  herself:  the  dis- 
appointment, the  necessity  for  concealing  what  she 
felt,  something  honest  and  proud  in  her,  too, 
made  her  advise  Jack  to  be  constant  to  Suzanne : 
But  when  she  heard  of  his  marriage,  she  blamed 
herself  and  her  youthful  generosity  bitterly:  at 

277 


Great  Days 

heart  she  felt  nothing  but  disdain  for  the  girl 
who  could  marry  a  man  who  didn't  love  her,  but 
her  contempt  for  Suzanne  only  deepened  her  pity 
for  Jack.  She  thought  of  her  feeling  for  him  as 
pity  and  intellectual  comprehension.  She  chose 
to  hide  even  from  herself  the  true  nature  of  her 
emotion,  but  the  thwarting  opposition  of  her 
mother  and  her  friends  brought  her  to  self-realisa- 
tion. 

After  Selwyn  had  been  rejected  by  Margaret, 
he  went  to  Lady  Barron  to  take  his  leave,  and, 
expanding  under  her  flatteries,  he  confided  to  her 
that  he  had  asked  Margaret  to  be  his  wife  and 
she  had  refused  him.  Lady  Barron  was  so  sym- 
pathetic that  he  could  not  help  putting  "a  spoke," 
as  he  termed  it  to  himself  "in  his  rival's  wheel." 
He  told  Lady  Barron  that  Margaret  and  Jack 
were  always  meeting,  and  the  village  folk  were 
talking.  He  didn't  mean  to  suggest  that  Mar- 
garet was  in  love  with  a  man  so  far  beneath  her: 
but  the  fellow  was  glib,  and  Margaret  was  very 
young,  and  a  firm  hand  was  needed  or  else.  .  .  . 

Selwyn  went  away  congratulating  himself  on 
having  made  Jack's  path  difficult,  if  not  impos- 
sible :  he  had,  in  fact,  made  it  easier. 

As  soon  as  he  left  her,  Lady  Barron  sent  for 
Margaret  and  gave  her  what  she  called  "a  good 

278 


Great  Days 

talking  to."  She  was,  indeed,  both  surprised  and 
indignant  that  her  child  could  hesitate  for  a  mo- 
ment between  Selwyn  and  Morgan,  and  the  fact 
that  Morgan  was  married  enabled  her  to  point 
her  remonstrance  with  contemptuous  sarcasms 
that  made  Margaret  wince  and  rage.  She  ended 
by  saying  that  Margaret  must  promise  not  to  meet 
Morgan  any  more.  Margaret  refused  point 
blank:  she  would  not  give  up  her  friend  because 
fools  like  Selwyn  imagined  evil  in  friendly  talks. 

When  pressed  and  tormented,  she  admitted 
that  she  liked  Jack,  liked  him  greatly,  which  con- 
fession brought  her  mother  to  exasperation  and  a 
flood  of  tears:  she  was  deserted  in  life;  her  hus- 
band ill  and  unable  to  help  her;  her  daughter 
running  after  a  married  man,  who  wasn't  even  a 
gentleman,  and  so  forth  and  so  on  interminably. 

The  whole  scene  seemed  to  Margaret  degrad- 
ing; to  put  an  end  to  it  she  gave  in  to  the  extent 
of  saying  she  would  treat  Jack  more  coldly,  would 
not  make  meetings  with  him,  and  would  give  no 
reason  for  scandalous  gossip. 

Lady  Barron  had  sense  enough  to  be  content 
with  this  assurance,  and  the  first  fruit  of  it  was 
that  Margaret  hurried  past  Jack  with  a  preter- 
naturally  cold  greeting,  for  she  was  afraid,  if  she 
heard  his  voice,  it  would  be  impossible  to  keep 

279 


Great  Days 

her  promise  to  her  mother.  As  it  was,  the  first 
effort  to  keep  it  flushed  her  face  with  anger  and 
passionate  revolt  against  the  conventionahties  and 
affectations  which  encaged  her. 

She  understood  at  once  that  to  miss  the  walks 
and  talks  with  Jack  would  be  very  hard  to  bear: 
they  had  meant  so  much  to  her  in  every  way  that 
she  could  not  contemplate  the  dullness  of  daily 
life  unrelieved  by  the  hope  of  seeing  and  speaking 
to  him.  She  hoped  he  would  not  notice  her  cold- 
ness, or  at  least  would  pay  no  attention  to  it,  and 
would  force  a  meeting.  She  intended  to  keep  to 
the  strict  letter  of  her  promise,  but  if  she  met 
Jack  by  chance  she  resolved  to  tell  him  everything. 
She  couldn't  lose  him  utterly;  that  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  The  knowledge  that  he  had  never 
even  kissed  her  made  her  revolt  reasonable  to 
her:  her  hfe  must  not  be  hurt  and  maimed  by  evil- 
minded,  prejudiced  busy-bodies. 


280 


CHAPTER  VII 

JACK  had  begun  to  drink.  At  first  on  rare 
occasions,  after  getting  wet  through  on 
deck,  or  when  chilled  by  half  a  night  passed  in  an 
open  boat.  Almost  insensibly  the  occasions  be- 
came more  numerous  till  it  grew  to  be  a  custom 
with  him  to  drink  as  freely  as  Knight  or  Gosport 
drank.  In  the  year  after  his  marriage,  the  year 
spent  in  smuggling,  he  took  to  drinking  more: 
little  by  little  he  had  got  a  taste  for  it:  he  liked 
good  French  Bordeaux  with  his  meals;  he  en- 
joyed a  glass  of  brandy  afterwards. 

Once  in  Bordeaux  and  once  in  the  Inn  he  had 
drunk  a  good  deal,  and  discovered  that  he  could 
drink  more  than  most  men  without  being  drunk. 
This  flattered  the  petty  vanity  in  him:  and  now 
that  his  larger  vanities  and  ambitions  were 
hemmed  in  and  deprived  of  outlet,  this  smaller 
conceit  had  disproportionate  influence:  he  was 
proud  of  being  able  to  take  a  great  deal  too  much 
without  being  drunk.  Usually  now  he  had  three 
or  four  nightcaps,  as  they  were  called,  in  the  Inn 

281 


Great  Days 

parlor  before  he  went  to  bed,  and  often  he  drank 
freely  at  dinner  and  even  earlier  in  the  day. 

Crosby  and  Myring  had  resumed  the  habit  of 
visiting  the  bar  nearly  every  evening,  and  Nugent 
often  dropped  in  as  well:  about  half-past  ten  or 
eleven  o'clock  his  father  and  Nancy  used  to  come 
in  and  they  would  end  up  with  a  couple  of  drinks 
all  round  while  listening  to  a  song  by  Weetman  or 
to  a  new  story,  or  tidbit  of  scandal. 

Crosby  was  in  some  respects  an  amusing  com- 
panion: he  had  a  great  fund  of  loose  anecdotes, 
which  he  told  with  a  good  deal  of  spirit;  and 
some  of  them  had  a  bitter  humour  or  a  tang  of 
reality  which  pinned  them  to  the  memory. 

One  afternoon  Jack  noticed  Crosby  whispering 
to  Nancy  in  the  bar.  It  came  to  him  as  an  after- 
thought that  the  couple  seemed  confidential;  but 
he  put  it  out  of  his  head  easily  enough,  for  Crosby 
had  never  shown  himself  in  better  spirits  than  on 
that  occasion.  He  began  by  telling  two  or  three 
stories  which  are  unprintable,  but  which  brought 
his  audience  into  the  right  humour  to  appreciate 
anything  he  might  say;  and  then  he  related  what 
he  called  "a  personal  experience." 

Two  women,  it  appeared,  had  been  quarrelling 
down  at  the  port  as  he  passed,  one  had  a  little 
girl  of  about  seven  years  old  at  her  side.     With 

282 


Great  Days 

arms  akimbo  the  pair  of  viragoes  barked  at  each 
other  in  the  first  round,  so  to  speak,  without  men- 
tioning names.  Suddenly  the  woman  without  the 
child  spoke  directly  to  the  other  woman: 

"Ye  think  a  lot  of  yourself,  Mrs.  Jones,"  she 
cried,  and  proceeded  to  pour  out  a  flood  of  re- 
proaches. The  little  girl  plucked  her  mother  by 
the  apron,  and  with  her  small  face  white  with 
hatred  cried: 

"Call  her  a  b —  cow,  mother,  before  she  has 
time  to  call  you  it." 

The  humour  of  the  thing  made  the  little  inci- 
dent unforgettable  to  Jack. 

Suddenly  he  heard  Nugent  and  Crosby  talking 
of  Miss  Barron. 

"She's  made  a  sensation  at  Court,"  Nugent 
said  in  some  surprise;  "it  appears  she's  a  great 
amateur  actress,  has  been  taken  up  by  Lady  Salis- 
bury, and  is  one  of  the  Pic  Nics.  I  hear  she's 
going  to  marry  my  Lord  Mandeville." 

At  once  Jack  grew  cold  as  ice. 

"That's  an  old  story,"  Crosby  broke  in,  "Sel- 
wyn  swore  they  were  engaged  a  month  ago: 
Mandeville's  mad  after  her." 

"It's  a  great  match  for  her,"  said  Myring  pom- 
pously,   "we   all   know   the   property   is   heavily 

283 


Great  Days 

dipped:  young  Cecil  can't  keep  away  from  the 
bones. 

"He's  so  vain,"  explained  Crosby,  "if  you  flat- 
ter him,  you  can  do  anything  with  him." 

"I  met  him  the  other  day,"  Nugent  went  on, 
"in  St.  James's  Street,  rather  white  and  shakey, 
but  as  nice  looking  as  ever  and  very  pleasant  man- 
nered, poor  devil." 

"How'll  he  get  the  money,"  said  Crosby,  "to 
pay  these  last  losses?  He  told  me  when  he  was 
last  at  The  Court  that  he  had  nothing  left  except 
the  hope  of  a  marriage,  and  heiresses  aren't  plen- 
tiful in  these  war  times." 

"I  heard,"  said  Nugent,  "that  Mandeviile  had 
promised  to  pay  all  his  debts  when  he  marries 
Margaret,  and  young  Cecil  is  doing  his  best  to 
bring  the  marriage  off  quickly." 

"To  play  my  lady  will  just  suit  her,"  flung  out 
Crosby,  "she's  as  proud  as  Lucifer." 

Jack  sat  as  if  rooted  to  the  settle :  every  word 
they  said  was  printed  in  his  brain.  He  was  filled 
with  sick  fear;  the  news  was  probable,  and  his  next 
emotion  was  absolute  astonishment  that  the  fact 
had  such  an  effect  upon  him.  Next  moment  he 
was  flooded  with  hot  rage.  It  was  like  Cecil's 
vain  weakness,  he  felt,  to  have  thrown  his  money 
away  and  then  wish  to  save  himself  by  selling 4iis 

284 


Great  Days 

sister.  Why  did  she  let  herself  get  talked  about 
with  Mandeville?  But  it  was  all  his  own  fault, 
he  reflected  sadly:  why  did  he  get  married!  Now 
it  was  too  late.  Why  shouldn't  she  flirt  with  Man- 
deville, or  anyone  else  she  liked? 

Suddenly  he  remembered  that  he  had  been  sent 
for  by  his  father  to  come  to  the  Inn  that  night. 
He  had  been  working  all  day  to  get  the  brigantine 
ready  for  sea,  and  the  message  was  that  someone 
wanted  to  see  him  about  crossing  to  France.  He 
didn't  care  where  he  went  so  long  as  he  could  go 
away  at  once. 

His  rage  of  jealousy  was  so  maddening,  his 
pain  at  the  thought  of  Margaret's  marriage  so 
extraordinarily  acute,  he  could  not  sit  still :  he 
got  up  as  if  to  go  out.  He  was  afraid  he'd  be- 
tray himself  if  he  stayed  any  longer.  But  in  the 
nick  of  time  Crosby  called  to  him: 

"What  are  you  running  away  for,  master 
Jack?" 

"Running  away!"  he  turned  on  him:  he  hated 
the  great  fat  fellow  with  his  sneering  face. 

"I'm  tired  of  sitting  over  one  cup  for  an  hour," 
he  retorted,  "if  you'll  drink  I'll  drink  with  you; 
If  not,  I'll  go  to  bed." 

"Drink!"  cried  Crosby,  "I  could  drink  you  un- 
der the  table  in  an  hour  if  you'd  drink  fair." 

285 


Great  Days 

"I'll  back  you,  Crosby,"  cried  Nugent,  "at  wine 
or  anything  else.    Who  is  to  call  the  drinks?" 

"Crosby  can,"  said  Jack.  "I'll  drink  any- 
thing." 

"Let's  begin  with  a  couple  of  bottles  of  claret, 
and  let  the  loser  pay,"  cried  Crosby,  "tho'  already 
I'm  more  than  a  bottle  ahead  of  you." 

The  first  bottles  were  poured  down  very 
quickly;  and  then  Crosby  chose  brandy  and  later 
punch;  and  all  the  time,  instead  of  getting  hotter 
or  more  excited.  Jack  got  colder  and  colder  and 
more  miserable.  The  pain  seemed  to  grow  in  him : 
his  heart  was  like  lead;  and  he  noticed  everything 
that  took  place  with  preternatural  clearness.  He 
saw  that  the  moment  they  came  to  the  brandy 
Nugent  began  managing  himself,  making  one 
glass  do  for  two  or  three;  and  when  Crosby 
shouted  for  punch  Nugent  remained  with  a  single 
rummer  before  him,  which  he  hardly  sipped. 

Meanwhile  Crosby  gave  reins  to  his  dislike  of 

Jack. 

"Your  wife'U  get  angry  with  you,"  he  began, 
"if  she  knows  you're  drinking." 

Jack  didn't  trouble  even  to  answer. 

A  little  later  he  pointed  to  a  splash  of  wine  on 

the  table  near  Jack: 

286 


Great  Days 

"You'll  want  one  of  your  French  hand-cloths 
soon  for  your  own  mouth,"  he  said. 

"It  would  take  more  than  a  hand-cloth  to  clean 
yours." 

Again  and  again  the  antagonism  between  the 
two  threatened  to  break  into  acts,  but  some  word 
of  Nugent's  or  the  entrance  of  the  pot-boy  with 
fresh  drinks  changed  the  current  of  feeling.  As 
he  became  more  excited,  Crosby's  hatred  of  Jack 
found  irritating  expression : 

"Let's  drink  to  the  King,  damme!"  he  cried, 
with  flaming  red  face,  "and  to  hell  with  Boney 
and  his  frog-eaters." 

For  some  reason  or  other  the  words  showed 
Jack  the  bestiality  of  the  whole  contest:  such 
wagers  were  always  regarded  as  ordinary  amuse- 
ment, but  his  instinct  revolted;  he  had  already 
drunk  enough,  too  much  indeed:  he  would  seize 
the  pretext  and  cut  the  whole  affair. 

"Toasts  weren't  in  the  bargain,"  he  replied, 
"and  I  won't  drink  them." 

"You  are  afraid  you'll  be  beaten,"  cried  Crosby, 
"or  else  you  are  a  traitor,  by  God.  Every  true 
Englishman  would  drink  that  toast." 

"I  won't,"  replied  Jack,  "and  I  have  drunk 
enough."    And  he  got  up  to  go. 

287 


Great  Days 

"If  you  don't  stay  and  drink  It  out,"  roared 
Crosby,  "you're  a  coward  and  beaten." 

"That's  right,"  cried  Myring,  "drink  it  out,  by 
God,  no  true  Englishman  runs  away." 

"Here's  hell  to  all  cowards,"  cried  Crosby,  get- 
ting up  and  waving  his  glass  above  his  head  in  the 
air,  and  distributing  its  contents  impartially  over 
the  table  and  Nugent,  who  was  seated  next  him. 

Jack  laughed.  Crosby's  insult  didn't  even  ex- 
cite his  anger.  As  he  left  the  room  his  own 
misery  came  over  him  In  a  wave:  he  felt  so 
wretched  that  everything  else  faded  from  his  mind. 
He  didn't  even  dare  to  think  of  the  cause  of  his 
heartache. 

He  went  out  in  the  air.  In  half  an  hour  he 
came  back  to  the  Inn  again,  and  found  the  whole 
place  in  disorder. 

Crosby,  it  appeared,  in  his  exultation  had  drunk 
rummer  after  rummer  of  punch  to  Jack's  defeat, 
and  had  finally  succumbed.  He  had  fallen  back 
in  his  chair,  and  from  the  chair  to  the  ground,  and 
Nugent  and  Myring  had  called  In  the  pot-boy. 
Though  both  of  them  could  stand,  they  were  too 
drunk  to  do  much  but  offer  advice;  but  as  Jack 
passed  the  door,  the  pot-boy  had  loosened  Cros- 
by's cravat,  and  flung  the  window  open.  The 
cold  air  finished  what  the  punch  had  begun.     In 

288 


Great  Days 

two   minutes    Crosby   was   carried   upstairs    and 
thrown  on  a  bed:  and  Jack  went  out  again. 

Had  he  drunk  much?  He  didn't  know :  he  was 
as  sober  as  ever  he  had  been  in  his  life.  Was  she 
really  going  to  be  married?  He  pictured  her  as 
she  had  come  towards  him  at  The  Court,  with 
frank  liking  and  eyes  that  held  his.  He  must  not 
think  of  it,  or  he'd  scream  with  pain.  What  could 
he  do  to  get  away  from  the  torturing  thoughts? 
....  What  was  in  his  memory?  Someone 
had  wanted  to  see  him:  Who?  He  would  see 
him  now:  anything  rather  than  think.  He  turned 
and  went  back  to  the  Inn.  Where  was  his  father? 
Had  he  gone  to  bed? 

"Who  wanted  me?"  he  asked  Nancy,  who  was 
shutting  up. 

"Two  gentlemen  from  London  who  have  num- 
ber Four  sitting-room,"  she  said;  "they  sent  down 
an  hour  ago,  but  you  wouldn't  listen." 

"I'll  go  now,"  said  Jack,  "if  you'll  give  me  a 
quart  of  hot  water  to  drink  first." 

"You'd  better  go  to  bed,"  she  rejoined,  "you 
look  as  if  you  were  going  to  be  ill;  but  you  can 
have  all  the  hot  water  you  want" ;  and  she  poured 
him  out  a  jugful  from  the  kettle  and  set  it  before 
him. 

'I'm  all  right  now,"  he  said,  a  moment  or  two 

289 


<<T>- 


Great  Days 

later,  and,  in  fact,  the  long  drink  of  hot  water 
calmed  his  nerves  and  cleared  his  thoughts  in  an 
incredible  way.  "What  did  the  men  want?"  he 
asked  Nancy;  "can  you  tell  me?" 

"They  want  to  cross  to  France  early  in  the 
morning,"  she  replied. 

"That's  it,  is  it,"  cried  Jack,  "but  why  don't 
they  go  by  Dover?" 

"Ask  them,"  Nancy  flung  back. 

Jack  went  upstairs  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,"  he  heard. 

Two  men  were  seated  before  the  fire  and  be- 
hind them  a  table  covered  with  glasses  and  bot- 
tles. A  young  man  dressed  in  the  extreme  of 
fashion  turned  to  the  door  as  Jack  entered:  the 
other,  a  very  fat  man,  went  on  talking  as  if  to 
himself  rather  than  to  his  companion. 

"I  want  to  see  Paris  with  my  own  eyes  and 
Bonaparte,  and  find  out  whether  Burke  was  right 
or  not.  .  .  .  It's  a  mad  world,  but  it  looks  to  me 
as  if  the  French  had  done  right  in  getting  rid  of 
king  and  nobles.  Who's  that?"  he  cried,  hear- 
ing Jack  speak,  and  starting  round  in  his  chair  to 
look  at  him. 

Jack  was  caught  at  once  by  the  air  of  careless 
authority  in  the  man's  speech  and  manner.  He 
was  very  fat  and  red-faced,  with  a  Jewish  cast  of 

290 


Great  Days 

countenance — a  thick,  beaked  nose  and  heavy 
pursed  lips.  He  was  very  ill-dressed;  his  cravat 
untied  and  dirty,  his  shirt  dirty,  too;  his  fat 
heavy  jowl  blue-black  and  bristly:  yet  somehow 
or  other  the  eyes  redeemed  the  face;  they  were 
dark  and  not  over  large;  but  full  of  life,  lambent, 
and  the  strong,  rich  voice  stirred  one  like  the  eyes. 

"Who  are  you?"  he  cried  again,  "and  what  d'ye 
want?" 

"They  tell  me,"  said  Jack,  "you  want  to  get  to 
France  in  the  morning.  I  suppose  you'll  go  to 
Dover.  There's  a  fast  schooner  starts  at  nine, 
will  take  you  across  probably  by  the  afternoon." 

"Don't  want  to  go  by  Dover,"  cried  the  fat 
man,  "want  to  go  from  here.  There  are  boats,  I 
suppose?" 

"Not  many,"  said  Jack. 

"One'll  do;  we  want  to  cross  to-morrow." 

"That's  a  question  of  money,"  replied  Jack. 

"By  God,"  cried  the  fat  man,  laughing  heart- 
ily: "most  things  are  a  question  of  money,  and 
it  isn't  as  common  with  me  now  as  it  used  to  be 
before  I  went  to  the  Jews.  Do  you  remember, 
Holland,"  he  cried  to  his  companion,  "when  I 
used  to  call  my  ante-room  Jerusalem  Chamber? 
Great  race,  the  Jews,"  he  laughed,  as  if  talking 
to    himself;    "they've    invented   bookkeeping   by 

291 


Great  Days 

double  entry,  and,  not  content  with  cheating  us 
in  this  world,  they  reckon  to  cheat  God  in  the 
next,  having  brought  him  in  a  debtor  to  them  for 
everlasting  bliss.    Ha  !   Ha  !   Ha  !" 

His  voice  was  so  rich,  his  laughter  so  Infec- 
tious, the  humour  of  his  lightning-quick  speech 
so  taking  that  Jack  laughed,  too;  In  spite  of  his 
heavy  heart  he  had  nev^er  been  more  Interested: 
the  man  must  be  someone  of  Importance  he  felt 
sure;  for  speech  transformed  him;  no  one  could 
help  feeling  his  charm. 

"How  much  d'ye  want  to  ferry  us  over?"  he 
cried  suddenly. 

"Nothing,  if  you'll  start  now,"  returned  Jack, 
"for  I  want  to  go;  ten  pounds  apiece  if  you  wait 
till  the  morning." 

"What  are  you  in  such  a  devil  of  a  hurry  for?" 
asked  the  fat  man,  lazily. 

"That's  my  business." 

"Come,  come,"  said  the  other,  "let's  have  a 
punch  and  tell  us  why  you  want  to  start  to-night." 

"I've  nothing  to  tell,  and  I've  drunk  all  I  want 
to  drink." 

For  the  first  time  the  younger  man  interfered 
In  the  conversation : 

"Is  it  quite  safe,  do  you  think,  to  go  to  France 
in  these  days?"  he  questioned  Jack. 

292 


Great  Days 

"As  safe  as  London,"  replied  Jack,  "safer,  in 
my  opinion." 

"H'm,"  said  the  exquisite,  "the  revolutionary 
spirit  hasn't  died  out  completely,  we're  told." 

"It  will  not  die  out  for  many  a  year  to  come," 
said  Jack,  "thank  God." 

"You  know  France  then?"  cried  the  fat  man, 
looking  at  him  in  surprise. 

"A  little  of  it." 

"You  speak  French?" 

"At  your  service,"  said  Jack,  using  the  French 
idiom. 

"Who  the  devil  are  you?"  cried  the  fat  man, 
starting  up  in  his  chair,  "you  sympathise  with  the 
revolutionary  spirit  and  yet  are  English;  aren't 
you?" 

"I'm  the  son  of  the  Inn-keeper,"  replied  Jack, 
"but  I  have  been  a  good  deal  in  France,  and  know 
it  pretty  well." 

"And  like  it,  too,  it  seems?" 

"Very  much,"  replied  Jack. 

"You're  one  in  ten  thousand  then,"  cried  the 
fat  man,  "and  we  must  have  a  talk,  by  God: 
Here,  Holland,  you  go  off  to  bed,"  he  flung  out>, 
"while  I  sit  and  talk  to  young — what's  yer  name?" 

He  was  so  genial  that  there  was  no  hint  of 
rudeness  in  his  off-hand  manner:   one  felt  that  he 

293 


Great  Days 

had  never  used  self-restraint,  had  always  been  al- 
lowed a  large  liberty. 

Nothing  loth,  his  companion  lit  a  candle,  and 
with  a  "Good-night,  Charles,"  left  the  room. 

"Now  sit  down,"  cried  the  fat  man,  "pour  your- 
self out  some  wine,  and  tell  me  what  you  know 
of  France.  You  don't  wear  the  bonnet  rouge 
yourself — eh?" 

"No,"  said  Jack,  "I  don't  need  to;  but  the  red 
cap  in  France  means  better  times  for  the  poor." 

"Freedom,  eh?"  questioned  the  man. 

"Not  freedom  but  equality,"  Jack  replied. 

"Now  what  the  deuce  do  you  mean  by  equal- 
ity? A  whoreson  strange  wild  fowl  that,"  cried 
the  fat  man,  laughing. 

"I  mean,"  said  Jack,  "that  thousands  of  people 
are  now  getting  the  land  of  France  for  them- 
selves, the  land  which  a  few  nobles  used  to  hold." 

The  fat  man's  eyes  narrowed  in  thought  as  he 
looked  at  him. 

"I  see,  I  see,"  he  said,  slowly,  "and  you  think 
that  a  good  thing?" 

"Surely,"  replied  Jack,  "it's  better  to  raise  corn 
than  game,  and  men  and  women  instead  of  ser- 
vants." 

"By  God!"  cried  the  fat  man,  "you're  a  philos- 
opher, my  young  friend!" 

294 


Great  Days 

"No,"  said  Jack,  thinking  of  Sauvan,  "but  I've 
talked  to  some  who  can  think." 

"And  what  do  you  make  of  Bonaparte?"  ques- 
tioned the  fat  man. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  him,"  Jack  replied, 
"but  the  Governor  of  the  prison  where  I  was 
thinks  him  the  greatest  man  that  ever  lived;  and 
he  certainly  never  forgets  the  men  who  fought 
with  him  in  the  beginning  of  his  career." 

"A  weak  trait  but  a  good  'un,"  cried  the  fat 
man:  "the  best  I've  ever  heard  about  him;  but 
he  doesn't  care  much  for  your  equality,  it  seems. 
He  says  the  French  don't  want  liberty  or  equality; 
but  honour  and  glory.  Have  you  heard  of  this 
new  Order  he  has  just  established?" 

Jack  shook  his  head. 

"You  know,"  said  the  fat  man,  "that  all  the 
Orders  which  used  to  be  in  France  were  abolished 
with  the  titles  of  nobility;  but  now  Bonaparte  has 
invented  one  that  he  calls  the  Order  of  the  Legion 
of  Honour:  it's  the  latest  news  in  Town!  .  .  . 
Every  Frenchman  Is  mad  to  get  it,  It  seems. 
Men  will  do  more  for  a  bit  of  ribbon,"  he  added, 
as  if  talking  to  himself,  "or  a  title,  than  they  will 
for  money.  I  wonder  sometimes  why  we  don't  use 
honour  more  as  a  reward  for  extraordinary  ser- 


•  '5 

Vice. 


295 


Great  Days 

He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  Jack  was  in 
the  room:  "I've  often  thought  we  should,  and 
now  this  Bonaparte  does  it — an  able  man,  prob- 
ably." 

"But  who  are  you,"  cried  Jack,  "who  know 
more  about  France  than  I  do,  though  I  was  in  it 
last  week?" 

The  man  with  the  authoritative,  laughing  eyes 
paused:  "My  name's  Fox,"  he  said,  with  a  sort 
of  careless  aloofness. 

"Charles  James  Fox?"  cried  Jack. 

"The  same,  if  it  pleases  you." 

"I've  always  wanted  to  meet  you,"  cried  Jack, 
"I'm  glad  even  to  see  you:  I've  heard  much  of 
you." 

"Nothing  good,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Fox, 
in  an  offhand  way. 

"Much,"  said  Jack,  "in  the  Westminster  Elec- 
tion you  declared  that  we  had  no  earthly  reason 
to  fight  France,  and  no  right.  You  love  France 
and  hate  war  and  wouldn't  have  anything  to  do 
with  the  Ministers  v/ho  were  making  it." 

"Simple  truths,"  replied  Mr.  Fox,  yawning; 
but  Jack  noticed  that  his  eyes  now  were  wary — 
"simple  truths — always  unacceptable " 

Seeing  the  question  in  Jack's  face,  he  went  on: 

"Florid  fictions  are  what  the  majority  of  men 

296 


Great  Days 

love.  But  you'll  keep  my  secret,  won't  you? 
Not  tell  my  name,  I  mean,  to  anyone,  for  Lord 
Holland,  my  companion,  thinks  that  if  we're 
known,  there  may  be  some  unpleasantness." 

"It  looks,"  he  continued,  with  the  careless  con- 
fidence of  one  who  has  never  had  to  mince  his 
words,  "as  if  we  should  have  war  again  shortly, 
and  I  want  to  see  for  myself  what  the  state  of 
France  is:  I  used  to  know  Paris  pretty  well." 

"I  know  nothing  about  Paris,"  said  Jack,  "but 
you'll  find  France  greatly  improved.  The  country 
is  getting  very  prosperous:  there  is  a  new  spirit 
everywhere;  men  are  better  off  than  they  ever 
were  before;  there's  happiness  and  hope  in  the 
very  air." 

"Really,"  cried  Mr.  Fox,  "that's  news,  indeed. 
How  have  they  taken  their  defeats  by  us  on  the 
seas?" 

"They  don't  think  of  them,"  replied  Jack,  "they 
have  so  many  triumphs  on  land,"  he  added,  "to 
put  against  them." 

"That  seems  natural,"  cried  Mr.  Fox.  "You've 
got  a  pair  of  eyes  in  your  head,  my  young  friend, 
and  have  used  them  to  good  purpose. 

"But  we  can  have  another  talk  to-morrow,"  he 
added,  and  with  that  he  got  up,  yawning,  and  be- 
gan busying  himself  with  his  candle. 

297 


Great  Days 

Jack  took  it  as  a  hint  that  he  was  to  go. 

"Good-night,"  he  said,  as  he  went  to  the  door, 
"I  hope  you  will  sleep  well." 

"Good-night,  good-night,"  Mr.  Fox  threw  back 
carelessly,  "we'll  start  after  dinner,  if  that  suits 
you." 

"I  will  suit  myself  to  your  pleasure,"  said  Jack, 
respectfully,  for  this  man,  he  felt,  deserved  re- 
spect. "Good-night,"  again  he  added,  as  he  went 
down  the  stairs. 

But  even  before  he  had  reached  his  own  bed- 
room he  became  conscious  again  of  the  sick  pain, 
the  uneasy  fear  at  his  heart.  He  went  into  his 
room  and  sat  down  by  the  bed.  He  noticed  now 
that  his  head  was  throbbing,  his  eyes  burning,  his 
mouth  afire.  He  went  over  to  the  water  jug  and 
drained  it.  .  .  . 

He  felt  tired  to  death,  unutterably  depressed: 
what  a  mess  he  had  made  of  his  life.  Why  had 
he  got  into  that  intrigue  with  Suzanne?  His 
father  was  right,  he  should  never  have  married 
her.  Married  her — was  he  married?  What  was 
she  to  him?  He  saw  quite  clearly  now  that  he 
cared  more  for  Caressa  than  for  his  niece;  that 
it  was  to  spare  Caressa  pain  that  he  had  married. 
He  laughed  aloud:  who  would  ever  believe 
it?  .  .  . 

298 


Great  Days 

He  had  wrecked  his  whole  life  simply  to  avoid 
hurting  a  friend.  Was  his  father  right?  Might 
he  have  married  Margaret?  Hope  crept  into 
him.  Why  not?  Perhaps.  .  .  .  Then  the  sick 
fear  again.  My  Lord  Mandevillel  Damn  my 
Lord.  .  .  . 

So  that  was  Fox;  the  first  man  in  England, 
even  in  Opposition;   a  bold,  genial  man. 

He  had  always  heard  of  him  as  a  great  dandy: 
in  his  retirement  Fox  had  gone  to  the  other  ex- 
treme: his  hands  were  filthy,  his  cravat  frayed; 
his  face  could  not  have  been  shaved  for  a  week; 
grotesquely  fat,  too;  yet  there  was  power  in  him. 
But  beyond  an  easy  air  of  authority  Jack  felt, 
with  a  certain  exhilaration,  that  the  famous  states- 
man was  not  much  his  superior.  He  had  a  care- 
less, off-hand  air  as  of  one  accustomed  to  be  flat- 
tered and  obeyed.  But  he  had  said  nothing  ex- 
traordinary. An  able  man,  yes:  fine  voice,  fine 
eyes.  .  .  . 

Again  he  began  to  feel  his  head  throbbing,  and 
now  he  determined  to  be  at  his  best  to-morrow  to 
meet  Mr.  Fox,  so  he  went  downstairs  to  the 
kitchen,  poured  himself  out  a  gallon  of  nearly 
boihng  water  which  he  brought  upstairs  and  began 
to  drink  while  undressing.  As  he  got  into  the 
bed  sweating  hot  the  alcohol  had  its  way  and  he 
fell  into  heavy  sleep. 

299 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THANKS  to  his  youth  and  the  state  of  excite- 
ment he  had  been  in,  and  perhaps  a  little 
to  his  hot  water  cure,  Jack  woke  with  nothing  but 
a  slight  swimming  in  his  head,  which  left  him  as 
soon  as  he  got  into  the  open  air. 

Though  the  miserable  feeling  of  depression  and 
remorse  lay  heavy  upon  him,  still  he  put  aside  his 
self-reproachings  for  the  time  being  and  busied 
himself  with  the  preparations  for  departure. 
Lord  Holland  was  down  early  and  saw  that  the 
baggage  was  all  handed  over  to  Jack  to  be  taken 
on  board  the  Dolphin.  But  Mr.  Fox  didn't  make 
his  appearance  till  nearly  two  o'clock,  and  then  he 
sat  down  to  an  enormous  dinner  and  a  couple  of 
bottles  of  the  best  Burgundy  in  the  cellar.  He 
was  not  fat  without  good  reason.  He  never 
showed  his  nose  outside  the  door  till  nearly  five 
o'clock.  Then  he  had  nothing  but  a  good-hu- 
moured nod  for  Jack,  who  had  been  waiting  for 
him  for  several  long  hours.  When  he  saw  the 
Dolphin  he  seemed  doubtful  whether  he  should 
trust  himself  on  board: 

300 


Great  Days 

"Is  she  big  enough  to  carry  me,  do  you  think?" 
he  asked  Jack,  with  a  comical  look. 

Jack  laughed  in  reply. 

**I  weigh  seventeen  stone  you  know:  we  all  run 
to  fat;  my  brother's  just  as  fat:  happy-go-lucky 
temperament,  I  suppose :  we  see  nothing  in  life 
worth  worrying  about.  It's  a  poor  lottery  after 
all,  and  very  few  prizes  in  it  worth  having;  few 
prizes,  but  a  good  many  surprises,  by  God,  and 
that's  perhaps  as  interesting." 

As  he  ran  on  in  this  way,  it  seemed  to  Jack  that 
the  man's  gift  was  one  of  speech  rather  than  of 
mind.  One  phrase  brought  another;  he  was  ex- 
traordinarily articulate,  thought  Jack,  a  little  en- 
vious of  such  superiority,  for  the  reflection  came 
to  him  at  once  that  perhaps  this  gift  of  speech  was 
all-important;  it  was  assuredly  the  main  differ- 
ence between  one  man  and  another. 

As  soon  as  he  got  on  board  Mr.  Fox  threw 
himself  into  a  big  chair  which  Jack  had  provided 
for  him  near  the  companion  on  the  weather  side, 
and  there  he  remained  lost  in  his  own  thoughts, 
or  silent  simply  out  of  indolence  till  they  reached 
Calais  about  ten  o'clock  that  night.  The  wind 
was  nearly  fair  and  Jack  fetched  the  harbour  with 
one  tack. 

As  the  uncle  and  nephew  were  getting  into  the 

301 


Great  Days 

boat  to  be  put  on  shore,  Lord  Holland  gave  Jack 
a  roll  of  guineas  done  up  in  paper,  but  Jack  handed 
it  back  to  him. 

"Thanks,"  he  said,  "but  it  has  been  pleasure 
enough  to  me  to  have  talked  to  Mr.  Fox." 

He  stepped  forward  to  give  an  order,  and  when 
he  returned  Lord  Holland  had  got  into  the  boat 
and  Mr.  Fox  was  preparing  to  follow  him. 

"I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  trouble,  Mr. 
Morgan,"  he  said,  "but  here's  the  price  agreed 
on.  I  could  not  think  of  using  your  vessel  and 
wasting  your  time  for  nothing." 

"Don't  ask  me  to  take  it,"  said  Jack,  drawing 
back,  "I'm  proud  to  have  had  you  on  board." 

"Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Fox,  "you  don't  take  it 
from  me;  it  isn't  mine,  I  have  nothing.  Take 
my  advice,  my  young  friend:  always  accept  money 
whenever  you  can  get  it,  and  never  give  it  unless 
you  must,  and  so  your  days  will  be  long  in  the 
land."  With  that  he  thrust  the  money  into  his 
hand  and  stepped  down  into  the  boat,  and  so  ended 
for  Jack  an  experience  which  made  an  even  deeper 
impression  on  him  in  memory  than  at  the  time. 

The  brigantine,  which  had  not  been  ready  when 
he  left  Hurstpoint,  was  ready  when  he  returned, 
and  Jack  immediately  took  her  for  another  trip 
to  Bordeaux.     The  shipping  of  the  town,  which 

302 


Great  Days 

had  fallen  off  enormously  during  the  war  with 
England,  was  now  improving  by  leaps  and 
bounds,  though  the  change  from  Jack's  first  visit 
was  still  noticeable.  Then  there  had  been  all  along 
the  bend  of  the  Garonne  for  four  miles  a  forest 
of  English  masts :  now  there  were  not  half  so 
many  vessels  loading,  and  only  a  few  dozen  pep- 
pered about  the  stream  ready  to  start.  But  busi- 
ness was  growing.  One  felt,  everywhere,  the 
brisk  animation,  the  noise  and  activity  and  cheer- 
fulness of  a  great  port.  Jack  was  amused  to  see 
that  the  little  armed  schooner  of  the  douaniers,  th.Q 
"garde-cotes,"  as  it  was  called,  or  coastguard  ves- 
sel, had  begun  to  keep  again  all  the  ceremonies 
and  etiquette  of  a  man-of-war  of  the  first  class. 

Jack  went  up  to  the  old  Hotel  d' Angleterre,  but 
he  had  some  difficulty  in  finding  it,  for  the  pro- 
prietor had  changed  the  name,  the  very  word  Eng- 
land was  so  hated  that  he  had  re-christened  his 
house  Prince's  Hotel  for  the  moment:  even  in 
such  democratic  times  an  aristocratic  name  was 
still  preferred  by  the  acute  tradesman. 

Jack  gave  a  little  dinner  there  to  Gosport  and 
Riding,  which  he  began  with  oysters  and  Sau- 
terne;  but  he  was  amused  to  find  that  Gosport 
thought  the  white  wine  too  thin. 

He  went  to  the  theatre   afterwards  and  saw 

303 


Great  Days 

Mollere's  Le  Medecin  Malgre  Lui.  The  theatre 
was  half  empty  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  play 
was  followed  by  a  ballet;  he  was  informed  by  the 
ouvreuse  that  the  Bordelais  never  went  to  the  the- 
atre on  Saturday.  The  next  night  he  went  to  a 
comic  opera  called  Cendrillon,  and  among  the 
numbers  which  most  amused  the  people  was  one 
which  began:  Bon  Voyage  Diimollet,  which  was 
then  being  hummed  from  one  end  of  France  to  the 
other. 

As  soon  as  the  orchestra  took  up  the  tune  the 
whole  audience  joined  in  and  began  singing: 

Bon  Voyage 

Cher  Dumollet 

Et  revenez 

Si  le  pays  vous  plait. 

Jack  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  change  from 
the  Ca  Ira  and  the  Marseillaise  of  only  a  few 
years  before.  The  majority  of  men  cannot  live 
long  on  high  levels. 

But  in  spite  of  dinners  and  plays  and  music  his 
depression  seemed  to  deepen.  He  was  as  miser- 
able in  Bordeaux  as  he  had  been  in  Hurstpoint, 
more  miserable  indeed,  and  he  was  glad  to  start 
back  again. 

304 


Great  Days 

As  soon  as  he  reached  Hurstpoint  he  heard  of 
great  doings  at  The  Court.  Cecil  was  there  with 
his  sister  It  appeared,  and  they  had  the  famous 
and  voluminous  Lady  Alblna  Buckinghamshire 
staying  with  them  and  Lord  Barrymore,  the  no- 
torious "Skiffy,"  too,  and  the  dwarfish  Lord  Valle- 
tort,  to  say  nothing  of  Lord  Mandeville  and  other 
exquisites. 

Jack  took  to  wandering  about  the  roads  and 
lanes  that  led  to  The  Court,  hoping  to  see  Mar- 
garet. One  afternoon  he  saw  her  coming  towards 
him  on  horseback  with  a  young  man  by  her  side, 
and  two  or  three  others  behind  them,  all  talking 
and  laughing.  Jack  stood  aside  to  let  them  pass, 
but  when  about  fifty  yards  away,  the  young  man 
leant  towards  Margaret  with  a  sort  of  proprietor 
air  which  set  Jack's  blood  on  fire.  He  stepped 
into  the  road  at  once,  and  Margaret  reined  up. 

"One  word,"  he  said. 

Margaret  turned  to  her  companions: 

"An  old  friend,"  she  said.  "If  you  will  ride 
on  I  will  overtake  you  in  a  few  minutes." 

"We  will  wait  for  you,"  said  the  young  horse- 
man, bowing  low. 

"What  is  It?"  asked  Margaret,  as  soon  as  the 
others  were  out  of  earshot. 

305 


Great  Days 

"Nothing,"  said  Jack,  the  sense  of  his  misery 
coming  over  him  again  irresistibly: 

"I  had  no  right  to  stop  you  or  interfere  with 
your  enjoyment." 

"Why  phrases?"  snapped  Margaret,  shortly. 
"I'm  always  willing  to  talk  to  you,  you  know 
that."  Taking  in  his  whole  attitude  of  sad  depres- 
sion she  went  on:  "Your  wife  has  gone  back  to 
France,  I  hear?"  (Jack  nodded.)  "I  meant  to 
call  to  see  her  alone,"  said  Margaret,  "and  con- 
vince her  she  was  mistaken  about  me.  It's  ab- 
surd of  two  women  quarreUing  like  that;  she  had 
nothing  to  be  jealous  of  really, — nothing!" 

Margaret  evidently  spoke  in  good  faith,  but  her 
earnestness  was  the  last  straw:  Jack  drew  back 
at  once: 

"Nothing,"  he  repeated,  bitterly,  nursing  the 
pain — "nothing!" 

Margaret's  face  flushed. 

"You're  determined  to  misunderstand  me,"  she 
cried,  angrily,  and  touched  her  horse  with  the 
whip. 

Jack  saw  her  join  the  rest  and  disappear  down 
the  road;  he  felt  that  all  was  over  between  them: 
in  some  way  or  other  he  had  blundered  again  and 
angered  her,  even  when  she  had  meant  to  be  kind. 
He  gave  himself  to  remorse  and  despair. 

306 


Great  Days 

It  was  Riding  who  first  shook  him  out  of  his 
misery.  He  had  gone  to  the  brigantine  to  distract 
himself,  and  had  begun  to  drink  by  himself  in 
the  cabin  when  Riding  came  down  the  companion. 
He  made  several  attempts  to  talk,  but  Jack 
answered  him  in  monosyllables.  Riding  had 
watched  him  for  a  long  time,  and  was  more  than 
a  little  anxious  about  him.  He  didn't  know  the 
cause  of  his  melancholy  brooding.  But  he  liked 
Jack  for  his  brightness,  generosity  and  quickness, 
and  he  wanted  to  rouse  him  if  he  could.  He 
felt  it  would  do  Jack  good  to  be  forced  to  exert 
himself. 

"Look  here,"  he  said  at  length,  "I  want  to  talk 
to  you.  Won't  you  listen  to  me  and  stop  drink- 
ing?" 

"Does  my  drink  prevent  your  talking?"  Jack 
flung  back. 

"No,  no,"  said  Riding,  "at  the  same  time  I  wish 
you  wouldn't  drink  so." 

"Go  ahead,"  Jack  whipped  out,  "and  don't 
preach." 

"You  told  me  once,"  Riding  continued,  "and  I 
can  never  forget  it,  for  it  was  the  day  you  gave 
me  the  five  hundred  pounds  that  put  me  on  my 
feet;  you  told  me  then  that  your  father  had  given 
you  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  to  put  in  the 

307 


Great  Days 

Funds,  and  you  were  going  to  the  Bank  of  Eng- 
land next  day  to  write  your  name  down  as  the 
holder  of  them:   did  you  do  that?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Jack. 

"Please  try  to  remember,"  insisted  Riding,  "it's 
important." 

"I  can't  remember,"  barked  Jack;  "I  don't  care 
a  damn  whether  I  did  or  did  not." 

"You  must  care  a  little  now,"  said  Riding,  "or 
you'll  care  a  great  deal  later  when  you  find  your- 
self left  without  a  penny." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean,"  continued  Riding,  "your  father  is 
not  the  man  he  was.  When  a  man  of  sixty  odd 
marries  a  young  woman  he's  apt  to  age  quickly." 

"That's  his  lookout,"  said  Jack,  heedlessly. 

"I  know,  I  know,"  cried  Riding,  "but  it's  your 
lookout  to  know  that  his  wife's  got  a  good  deal 
of  money  from  him  already,  and  if  you  don't  do 
something  she'll  have  it  all." 

"I  hope  it'll  do  her  good,"  said  heedless  Jack. 

"Your  father,"  pursued  Riding,  "is  being  made 
a  fool  of;  you  surely  don't  want  to  see  Crosby 
one  day  sitting  in  your  place  as  master  of  the  Inn, 
enjoying  the  fortune  you  have  helped  to  make." 

"Crosby?"  cried  Jack,  the  name  lighting  up  the 
old  antagonism  in  him  and  driving  away  the  fumes 

308 


Great  Days 

of  drink.  "Crosby!"  He  pushed  the  brandy 
from  him  and  took  a  huge  drink  of  water  Instead: 

"What's  he  got  to  do  with  It?" 

"Keep  your  eyes  open,"  said  Riding,  "and 
you'll  soon  see." 

"How  came  you  to  see?"  asked  Jack,  suspi- 
ciously. 

"A  good  deal  of  gossip's  going  about,"  said 
Riding,  "and  I  keep  my  ears  open  to  everything 
which  concerns  you.  Take  my  advice;  if  you 
won't  watch  yourself,  have  a  talk  one  day  with 
Gretta  Knight.  She  knows  all  about  it.  I  wouldn't 
let  Crosby  beat  me  If  I  were  you." 

Unwittingly  Riding  had  done  Jack  even  more 
good  than  he  Intended.  The  introduction  of  Cros- 
by's name  had  roused  Jack's  antagonism  and  given 
him  something  to  think  of,  something  to  combat, 
and  so  weaned  his  thoughts  from  his  own  misery 
and  regrets. 

When  Jack  left  the  vessel  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  see  Gretta  Knight  at  once,  and  Riding  told  him 
where  he  would  be  likely  to  find  her.  He  went 
and  met  her  on  her  way  home  from  the  Inn. 

He  got  into  talk  with  her  and  began  flattering 
her.  In  a  little  while  he  discovered  that  she  hated 
Nancy,  and  then  the  whole  story  came  out. 
Nancy,  It  appeared,  disliked  Jack  because  he  paid 

309 


Great  Days 

her  no  attention,  and  she  liked  Crosby,  and  had 
bragged  that  she  had  already  got  the  Inn  and 
most  of  the  money  from  the  old  man. 

"She's  a  dirty  cat,"  said  Gretta,  "and  as  stingy 
as  she  can  be.  She'd  never  have  let  on  a  word  if 
she  hadn't  been  drinking  with  Crosby  one  night." 

"But  you  like  Crosby,"  said  Jack  to  her  with 
a  new  suspicion  in  his  mind. 

"He's  pleasant  company  and  that's  all,"  replied 
Gretta,  sharply,  tossing  her  head,  "though  he's 
made  up  to  me  often  enough  when  Nancy  wasn't 
looking." 

"Do  you  think  he's  trying  to  get  money  out  of 
my  father?"  asked  Jack. 

"Of  course  he  is,"  Gretta  replied,  "every  time 
you  go  away  they  try  to  get  some  more." 

"Has  that  been  going  on  long?"  questioned 
Jack. 

"Since  before  the  marriage.  Crosby's  always 
with  Nancy.  When  your  father  is  at  his  dinner 
in  the  parlour  Nancy  is  in  and  out  pretending  to 
see  that  things  are  cooked  as  he  likes,  but  really 
to  be  with  Crosby.  I  only  wonder  you  haven't 
seen  it  all.  She's  mad  after  him,  and  they're  as 
bold  as  bold  now.  I've  seen  'em  kissing  to-night, 
and  Crosby  with  his  hands  on  her  as  no  decent 
woman  would  allow." 

310 


Great  Days 

Walking  along,  Jack  thought  the  matter  over. 
He  knew  Gretta's  vain  little  venal  soul  almost  by 
heart. 

"It  isn't  everyone  who  has  your  big  eyes, 
Gretta,"  he  said,  "or  your  cleverness." 

"Oh,  Master  Jack,"  she  smirked,  "I've  always 
liked  you,  you  know." 

"Well,  Gretta,"  he  concluded,  "perhaps  you'll 
let  me  know  if  you  hear  anything  important.  In 
the  meantime  take  this  for  your  trouble,"  and  he 
gave  her  the  two  or  three  gold  pieces  he  had  about 
him. 

"You  never  kiss  me  now,  Master  Jack,"  pouted 
Gretta.  "I've  grown  ugly,  I  suppose,  with  all  the 
work." 

In  answer.  Jack  kissed  her,  and  as  he  turned 
back  to  the  Inn  he  could  hear  Gretta  singing  as 
she  went  on  her  way  home. 

What  was  to  be  done?  Characteristically 
enough  Jack  took  the  direct  way :  he  went  straight 
back  to  the  Inn.  On  the  road  he  made  up  his 
mind  what  to  do.  He  still  had  the  lease  of  The 
Grange  and  often  slept  there.  He  would  hire  a 
cook  and  give  a  dinner  there  to  his  father,  and 
have  a  long,  quiet  talk  with  him.  In  the  mean- 
time he'd  keep  his  eyes  open.    When  he  got  to  the 

311 


Great  Days 

Inn  he  felt  instinctively  that  all  Gretta  had  told 
him  was  the  truth. 

His  father  was  in  the  kitchen;  Crosby  was 
standing  between  the  door  leading  from  the  par- 
lour to  the  bar  talking  to  Nancy.  Jack  asked  his 
father  casually  would  he  come  and  dine  with  him 
some  night.  The  old  man  looked  at  him  as  if 
surprised,  the  grey  eyes  narrowing  with  suspicion. 

"Why  can't  we  dine  here?"  he  asked. 

"I  think  there's  going  to  be  war  soon,"  said 
Jack,  inventing  a  story  on  the  spur  of  the  moment, 
"Mr.  Fox  thought  so,  and  I  want  to  talk  with 
you.     I  want  to  bring  Riding  as  well." 

"Why  not  bring  him  here?"  persisted  his 
father. 

"I  think  you  might  come  when  I  ask  you,"  said 
Jack,  a  little  annoyed,  "I  want  a  quiet  talk." 

The  old  man  smiled  slowly: 

"All  right,"  he  replied,  "I'll  come.  But  now, 
I  think,  I'll  turn  in." 

It  was  a  cold  night  and,  as  luck  would  have  it, 
the  fire  went  out  in  the  parlour,  and  Nugent  and 
Myring  and  Crosby  all  adjourned  to  the  kitchen, 
where  Jack  was  sitting.  Luckily  or  unluckily  the 
talk  turned  on  the  doings  at  The  Court,  and 
Crosby  announced  that  Miss  Margaret  was  doing 
her  best  to  hook  Lord  Mandeville. 

312 


Great  Days 

Jack  said  nothing;  but  all  his  blood  was  aflame, 
and  his  anger  may  have  shown  itself  in  his  face, 
for  Crosby  determined  to  tease  him. 

"The  date  of  the  marriage  must  be  very  near," 
said  Nugent,  "for  Cecil  has  money  again." 

"If  money  has  passed,  there'll  be  no  marriage," 
said  Crosby,  with  a  great  laugh. 

The  insult  was  vile ;  but  Jack  kept  quiet.  In 
all  the  turmoil  of  his  thoughts  there  was  the  idea 
that  he  must  not  bring  Margaret's  name  into  the 
row. 

A  little  later  Crosby  gave  him  the  opportunity 
he  wanted: 

"Are  you  fitting  the  brigantine  out  to  fight, 
Master  Jack?"  he  asked. 

As  Myring  was  in  the  room  the  question  was 
Indiscreet,  to  say  the  best  of  it.  Jack  looked  at 
him  and  smiled:  he  knew  that  the  moment  was 
near: 

"That  can't  interest  you,"  he  said. 

"Why  not?"  said  Crosby,  defiantly,  catching 
the  provocation  in  Jack's  tone. 

"Because  the  only  thing  you'd  fight,"  said  Jack, 
laughing,  "is  a  bottle  of  brandy,  and  even  then 
you'd  be  beaten." 

To  do  him  justice  Crosby  was  not  a  coward, 
and  he  was  conscious  besides  of  his  great  strength. 

313 


Great  Days 

"I  don't  fight  with  toothpicks,"  he  snorted,  al- 
luding contemptuously  to  Jack's  sword,  '*but  I'm 
not  afraid  of  any  man  here  in  English  fashion 
with  fists." 

"Your  mouth's  your  strong  point,"  retorted 
Jack,  bitterly. 

"Come  out  and  try  it  with  fists,"  cried  Crosby. 

"We  needn't  go  out,"  said  Jack,  getting  up. 

"Don't  let  them  fight,"  cried  Nancy,  shutting 
the  door  so  that  the  noise  should  not  be  heard,  and 
appealing  alternately  to  Myring  and  to  Nugent. 
"Don't  let  them  fight,  for  God's  sake!" 

But  neither  man  attempted  to  interfere,  and  she 
could  do  nothing  but  put  her  back  against  the  door 
and  wait. 

"I  meant  giving  it  you  when  we  were  at  school," 
said  Crosby,  viciously,  while  pulling  off  his  coat, 
"but  you'll  lose  nothing  by  waiting." 

"You  great  lout,"  replied  Jack;  and  the  next 
moment  Crosby  swung  at  him. 

Jack  avoided  it  by  stepping  back  and  then 
rushed  in.  He  had  already  decided  how  he  would 
fight  and,  though  he  had  little  or  no  practice  with 
fists,  his  knowledge  of  sword-play  stood  him  in 
good  stead,  the  principles  of  all  fighting  being  the 
same.  He  rained  blows  on  that  part  of  his  op- 
ponent's body  that  was  nearest  to  him — his  stom- 

S14 


Great  Days 

ach,  and  no  tactics  could  have  served  him  better; 
for  his  opponent  was  gross  with  overeating. 

He  had  soon  driven  Crosby  right  back  across 
the  kitchen,  and,  before  the  big  fellow  could  rally, 
his  legs  tripped  over  a  stool  and  he  came  on  his 
back  to  the  ground. 

"Let  him  up,"  cried  Myring. 

"Yes,  let  him  up,"  said  Nugent,  coming  be- 
tween them. 

They  were  both  minded  to  see  that  Crosby,  at 
any  rate,  had  fair  play.  In  a  moment  Crosby  was 
on  his  feet  again.  He  was  flushed  and  out  of 
breath  and  a  httle  rufiled,  but  as  confident  in  his 
strength  as  ever.  He  was  very  intelligent,  too, 
and  fully  reahsed  that  if  he  let  Jack  get  close  to 
him  he  would  surely  be  beaten.  He  resolved  to 
step  back  and  use  his  fists  in  long  swings  like  flails. 
This  he  did,  and  for  some  time  Jack  saw  no  open- 
ing, had  to  give  ground,  indeed,  for  Crosby  kept 
swinging  with  both  hands,  and  Jack,  after  stop- 
ping one,  felt  that  there  was  great  force  in  the  big 
man's  blows. 

In  turn  Crosby  kept  driving  him  across  the 
room,  but  suddenly,  after  a  heavier  swing  than 
usual.  Jack  saw  his  chance  and  jumped  in  again, 
and  again  the  fight  turned  at  once  in  his  favour. 
At  half  arm's  length  he  kept  driving  his  fists  into 

315 


Great  Days 

Crosby's  body  as  hard  as  he  could,  heedless  of 
the  three  or  four  cuffs  that  Crosby  gave  him  about 
the  head  and  ears. 

This  time  Crosby  was  driven  across  the  room 
to  the  wall,  and  once  against  the  wall  he  exerted 
himself  and  threw  Jack  off,  and  as  Jack  tried  to 
rush  in  he  met  him  with  a  swing  in  the  face  that 
brought  the  blood  streaming  from  Jack's  nose. 

"Ha!  Ha!"  cried  Crosby,  exultant,  "got  it 
then,  did  ye?"  and  immediately  followed  up  his 
success  with  swing  on  swing. 

Again  Jack  retreated,  and  a  little  later  dodged 
beneath  the  big  man's  fists  and  began  punching 
him  again. 

For  eight  or  ten  minutes  the  fight  went  on  in 
this  way:  Jack  gaining  in  the  near  fighting  and 
Crosby  at  long  bowls.  Condition  began  to  tell; 
thanks  to  his  harder  life  and  more  energetic  na- 
ture, Jack  was  in  much  better  fettle  than  his  op- 
ponent. 

"The  little  fellow  is  harder,"  said  Myring  to 
Nugent. 

"Harder  and  quicker,"  rejoined  Nugent,  "gets 
in  three  blows  to  Crosby's  one.  Our  man's  be- 
ginning to  get  groggy." 

Nugent  was  right.  Crosby's  face  had  already 
turned  from  red  to  pale:    those  body  blows  of 

316 


Great  Days 

Jack's  had  driven  all  the  wind  out  of  him,  and  he 
was  beginning  to  feel  the  effects  of  years  of  indo- 
lent living  and  too  much  drink. 

But  the  great  game  has  many  chances  in  it,  and 
no  one  ever  gets  all  the  luck.  Crosby  was  begin- 
ning to  doubt  the  issue,  and  fear  made  him  think. 
In  his  turn,  Jack  was  getting  over-confident,  and 
so  the  pendulum  of  fortune  swung  to  Crosby's 
side. 

When  next  he  got  Jack  away  from  him  he  be- 
gan to  make  short  jabs  with  his  left  hand  while 
holding  his  right  in  reserve.  After  twice  or  thrice 
evading  the  blows  of  Crosby's  left,  Jack  ducked 
and  rushed  in,  and  Crosby  hit  out,  viciously  swing- 
ing his  right  with  all  his  strength. 

As  luck  would  have  it  he  caught  Jack  just  on 
the  point  of  the  chin,  and  at  once  felled  him  to 
the  floor,  his  eyes  blinded  with  what  seemed  a 
glare  of  coloured  lights. 

When  Jack  came  to  himself  he  found  that  the 
cook  had  got  him  into  a  chair  and  Nancy  was  giv- 
ing him  some  brandy.    That  was  all  he  knew. 

As  the  brandy  began  to  run  through  him,  and 
the  blood  began  to  stir  again  in  his  veins,  he  was 
conscious  that  Crosby  was  in  front  of  him. 

"Have  you' had  enough?"  cried  Crosby,  "or  do 
you  want  some  more?" 

317 


Great  Days 

"All  you  can  give  me,"  replied  Jack,  pulling 
himself  to  his  feet. 

"No,  no,"  said  Nancy,  "you  mustn't.  Please, 
please,  gentlemen,  stop  them  fighting;  he  can't 
stand,"  and,  indeed,  Jack  could  hardly  hold  him- 
self upright:  the  floor  was  waving  underneath 
him  worse  than  a  ship's  deck  in  a  storm,  and  there 
was  a  deadly  sick  faintness  on  him. 

But  Crosby,  delighted  at  his  unexpected  suc- 
cess, and  having  had  time  fully  to  realise  the  re- 
vulsion from  fear  to  joy,  was  determined  to  im- 
prove his  victory. 

"Leave  him  alone,  Nancy,"  he  said,  "he's  had 
enough;   one  blow's  enough  for  him." 

Jack's  answer  was  a  rush  at  him.  The  rush 
was  so  unexpected  that  Crosby  could  only  strike 
wildly.  The  blow  caught  Jack  on  the  shoulder, 
but  he  was  so  weak  that  it  knocked  him  down. 

Strange  to  say  the  fall,  instead  of  doing  him 
harm,  did  him  good.  When  he  got  up  on  his  feet 
again  he  felt  stronger.  He  realised  at  once 
clearly  that  all  he  had  to  do  was  to  avoid  a  crush- 
ing blow  and  he  would  get  better  quickly. 

He  rushed  in  again,  ducking  to  avoid  Crosby's 
swing,  and  this  time  followed  him  across  the 
kitchen,  punching  him  right  and  left.    By  the  time 

318 


Great  Days 

he  got  him  to  the  wall  he  found  his  strength  had 
^  come  back.    The  fight  was  not  over  yet. 

Helped  by  the  wall  Crosby  thrust  Jack  back 
from  him  and  began  again  his  long  left-hand  jabs, 
keeping  the  right  in  reserve. 

But  now  Jack  was  as  cautious  as  Crosby.  In  a 
moment  or  two  he  saw  that  if  he  ducked  under  his 
left  hand  he  could  get  in  on  that  side  and  so  avoid 
his  opponent's  right-hand  swing. 

Again  Crosby  began  to  feel  afraid;  his  plan 
had  been  countered,  and  he  no  longer  had  faith 
in  it.  He  began  to  fight  wildly  as  he  had  done  at 
first.  Again  and  again  Jack  drove  him  across  the 
room  to  the  wall,  again  and  again  he  found  it 
more  difficult  even  when  backed  by  the  wall  to  get 
Jack  away  from  him;  at  length  it  was  not  diflRcult 
merely  but  impossible.  Crosby  stood  propped 
against  the  wall  while  Jack  was  driving  his  blows 
into  him,  and  he  could  only  cuff  Jack  feebly  about 
the  head,  for  Jack  was  too  close  in  for  the  big 
man's  blows  to  be  effective. 

After  a  little  thought  Nugent  came  to  his 
friend's  assistance. 

"Come,  come,"  he  said,  pulling  Jack  back, 
"give  the  man  time  to  breathe,  that's  been  a  long 
round:  he  let  you  get  up." 

Jack  only  looked  at  him :   he  knew  he  had  the 

319 


Great  Days 

fight  in  hand;  he  had  only  to  stick  to  it,  and  he 
meant  sticking. 

As  soon  as  Nugent  let  him  loose  he  sprang 
again  at  Crosby,  and  the  end  came  suddenly. 

A  heavy  body  blow  brought  Crosby's  head  for- 
ward, and  Jack  gave  him  his  right  as  hard  as  he 
could  in  the  face. 

Down  went  the  big  man  on  his  back  and  lay 
stone-still.  At  first  Jack  didn't  grasp  what  had 
happened.  The  blow  and  fall  together  had 
•oiocked  Crosby's  senses  out  of  him. 

Myring  and  Nugent  soon  propped  him  up  in  a 
chair,  but  they  could  not  make  him  drink.  Minute 
after  minute  passed  and  they  began  to  get  fright- 
ened. Jack's  anger  had  all  left  him:  he  never 
could  like  the  fellow,  but  his  hate  had  evaporated. 

"Stretch  him  out  on  the  floor,"  he  said,  "throw 
some  water  on  him  and  he'll  come  to,"  and  he 
went  himself  to  get  the  water. 

In  a  few  moments  after  the  water  had  been 
thrown  on  him  Crosby  came  slowly  to  himself. 
But  evidently  his  heart  had  been  affected  by  the 
pummelling;  for  the  colour  didn't  come  back  to  his 
cheeks,  and  when  they  tried  to  pour  brandy  down 
his  throat  it  only  made  him  violently  sick.  The 
hammering  he  had  got  about  the  stomach,  coming 

320 


Great  Days 

after  years  of  loose  living,  had  exhausted  him 
completely. 

Jack  went  off  for  the  barber-surgeon,  and  when 
he  came  back  he  found  that  Nancy  had  washed 
Crosby's  face,  and  Myring  and  Nugent  had  laid 
him  to  rest  on  the  big  settee  in  the  parlour. 

Nancy  had  gone  up  and  brought  pillows  and 
bed  clothes  and  made  him  comfortable. 

Jack  sent  in  the  doctor  and  went  up  to  bed. 


S21 


CHAPTER  IX 

NEXT  morning  Jack  was  as  well  as  ever,  in 
fact,  he  felt  as  if  the  hard  exercise  of  the 
night  before  had  cleared  his  head  and  lightened 
his  spirits,  and  he  soon  noticed  that  the  report  of 
the  fight  had  done  him  a  great  deal  of  good  in  the 
village.  Everyone  showed  him  an  added  tinge  of 
respect  and  cordiality.  Even  the  gentry  from  the 
country  round  began  to  nod  to  him  again  good- 
humouredly,  as  if  they  were  glad  to  see  him.  Jack 
saw  with  amusement  that  his  thrashing  of  Crosby 
had  lifted  him  higher  in  public  esteem  than  his 
taking  of  the  East  Indiaman  or  his  learning 
French,  or,  indeed,  any  of  the  more  difficult  things 
he  had  done.  His  father  even  showed  himself 
curiously  elated  and  proud. 

"I  knew  you  could  beat  the  fellow,"  he  said, 
"we  Morgans  are  a  tough  lot;  but  a  small  place 
like  the  kitchen  gave  him  a  great  advantage;  he's 
a  big,  powerful  fellow.  ...  I  suppose  his  heart 
gave  out;  those  big  men  are  always  weak  about 
the  heart;  but  I'm  glad  they  had  to  carry  him 
home;  it'll  take  some  of  the  swagger  out  of  him." 

322 


Great  Days 

Jack  found  that  his  dinner  might  just  as  well 
have  been  given  at  the  Inn,  for  Crosby  didn't 
show  his  nose  In  the  village  for  months.  But,  as 
he  had  asked  his  father  to  The  Grange,  the  dinner 
took  place  there. 

Jack  wished  to  put  his  father  In  a  good  humour, 
and,  as  the  old  man  after  dinner  wanted  to  hear 
all  about  the  fight,  Jack  gave  him  a  brief  account 
of  it,  and  told  him  that  whatever  courage  he  had 
probably  came  from  him,  for  one  of  his  earliest 
recollections  was  of  the  wreck  that  had  taken 
place  on  the  beach  and  of  his  father  sending  New- 
ton with  the  line  that  established  communication 
and  saved  the  shipwrecked  people. 

"Do  you  remember  that?"  cried  the  old  man, 
greatly  pleased.  "It  was  much  the  same  thing," 
he  continued,  "  that  first  won  your  mother.  I  was 
mate  of  a  coasting  brig,  and  we  had  run  in  from 
Cardiff  with  coals.  It  came  on  to  blow  hard  In 
the  night,  and  the  end  of  It  was  the  brig  dragged 
her  anchors  and  went  ashore.  We  were  only  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  beach,  and  the  whole  vil- 
lage turned  out  on  the  shingle  to  watch  us,  but 
they  couldn't  get  to  us  and  we  couldn't  get  to  them, 
and  the  brig  began  to  break  up  under  our  feet. 
One  man  tried  to  swim  ashore,  an  uncle  of  Gibby's 
it  was,  a  big,  fat  fellow,  who  could  swim  like  a 

323 


Great  Days 

porpoise.  But  he  was  carried  clear  of  the  vessel, 
and  the  moment  he  got  from  under  her  lee  he  was 
battered  to  pieces  In  the  breakers.  That  showed 
me  the  set  of  the  tide,  so  I  went  off  the  bowsprit 
end  with  a  piece  of  string  round  my  waist  and 
just  managed  to  get  ashore. 

"They  pulled  me  out  more  dead  than  alive  and 
carried  me  up  to  the  Inn,  and  your  mother  (she 
was  a  girl  then)  could  not  do  enough  for  me.  I 
thought  no  one  ever  had  such  soft  hands  or  kind 
ways.  I  kissed  her  hands  one  day,"  he  added, 
"when  I  was  getting  well,  and  that  was  the  be- 
ginning of  it.     Poor  Mary." 

After  a  moment  or  two  the  old  man  broke  out: 

"But  what  did  you  want  to  see  me  about,  Jack? 
You  haven't  told  me  yet,  and  I  must  be  getting 
back.  I  don't  sleep  much  nowadays,"  he  went  on, 
"but  I  like  to  rest  In  bed,  a  need  I  never  felt,"  he 
said,  "up  to  a  short  time  ago." 

Jack  was  struck  by  a  certain  tonelessness  in  the 
old  man's  voice.  He  noticed,  too,  with  a  shrink- 
ing at  heart  that  his  father's  black  hair  was  al- 
ready getting  grey.  It  was  evident  he  was  age- 
ing rapidly,  his  cheeks  were  baggy,  his  eyes  had 
lost  their  brightness. 

"I  don't  want  to  beat  about  the  bush,"  said 
Jack.     "I'm  sure  you  won't  do  me  any  injury,  but 

324 


Great  Days 

there's  a  good  deal  of  talk  about  that  you're  giv- 
ing your  money  to  Nancy.  I  don't  mind  that," 
he  went  on,  rapidly,  for  the  old  man  seemed  about 
to  speak,  "you  have  a  right  to  do  what  you  will 
with  your  money;  you've  earned  it,  and  it's  yours. 
But  some  years  ago  you  gave  me  twenty-five  thou- 
sand pounds;  didn't  you?  And  I  have  relied  on 
that,  and  it  would  not  be  fair  of  you  to  take  it 
away  without  letting  me  know,  for  I  should  have 
to  go  to  work  at  once  and  earn  some  more." 

His  father  laughed. 

"Don't  you  remember?"  he  asked,  "that  you 
signed  for  that  twenty-five  thousand  pounds;  it's 
all  in  your  name;    I  couldn't  take  It  if  I  wanted 


to. 


"That's  all  right  then,"  said  Jack,  "that's  all  I 
wanted  to  know." 

"Had  you  forgotten  that  it  stands  in  your 
name?"  asked  the  old  man,  curiously. 

"I  remembered  something  about  it,"  confessed 
Jack,  "but  it  was  all  vague,  and  when  Riding 
asked  me  the  other  day  I  could  not  tell  him." 

"Ah!  it  was  Riding  put  it  into  your  head?" 
cried  his  father,  as  if  relieved  of  the  last  doubt. 

"Yes,"  said  Jack,  quite  ingenuously,  "Riding 
and  Gretta  Carter." 

325 


Great  Days 

"Oh,  ho,"  laughed  the  old  man,  "the  plot  thick- 
ens. I  wonder  did  Gretta  know  anything  through 
Crosby." 

"That  was  it,"  said  Jack,  relieved  not  to  have 
to  say  anything  against  Nancy. 

"Now  I  understand  it  all,"  said  the  old  man: 
"you  see,"  he  said,  cunningly,  beginning  to  tap  on 
the  table  with  his  fingers  in  the  old  way  that  Jack 
knew  so  well,  "when  anything  happens  that  I  don't 
understand,  I  go  to  work  to  put  myself  in  the  place 
of  the  other  people,  and  try  to  come  at  the  ex- 
planation. I  guessed  you  wished  to  see  me  about 
money,  from  your  hesitation  and  your  wanting  me 
to  come  here.  But  it  was  not  like  you  to  think  of 
money  without  being  put  up  to  it  by  some  one.  I 
couldn't  quite  make  out  who  had  put  you  up  to  it." 

Jack  laughed  outright.  He  had  no  idea  that 
his  father  was  so  thoughtful  and  cunning. 

"Riding,"  he  said,  "Riding  and  Gretta." 

"I'm  very  glad,"  said  the  old  man,  simply, 
"that  you  didn't  doubt  me.  You're  curiously  like 
your  mother  in  some  things,  you  know,"  he  added, 
"and  she  thought  no  more  of  money  than  of  dirt. 
Never  thought  enough  of  it,  and  you  don't  think 
enough  of  it,  my  lad,"  he  went  on,  "though  you've 
a  good  deal  of  me  in  you,  too." 

326 


Great  Days 

"I  didn't  need  to  think  of  it,"  replied  Jack, 
"you  wouldn't  have  given  it  to  me  years  ago  if 
you  had  meant  to  take  it  back  later." 

"That's  not  quite  true,"  said  the  father,  "but  it 
doesn't  matter.  Did  you  ever  make  out  why  I 
gave  it  to  you?" 

"No,"  said  Jack,  surprised  at  the  question. 

"Well,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  cunning  smile, 
"I  gave  it  to  you  because  I  wanted  to  excite  ambi- 
tion in  you.  I  said  to  myself  if  Jack  knows  he  has 
money  and  a  mortgage  on  The  Court,  he'll  go  in 
and  win  that  girl,  Margaret  Barron.  Why,  as  a 
child,"  he  went  on,  "she  liked  you,  anyone  could 
see  it;  you  were  her  hero,  lad.  But  that  prison 
business  came  in  the  way.  Well,  well,"  said  the 
old  man,  "perhaps  it's  all  for  the  best,"  and  as  he 
spoke  he  took  a  big  packet  from  his  inner  pocket. 
"I  may  just  as  well  let  you  know  how  you  stand 


now." 


"No,  no,"  said  Jack,  "I  would  rather  leave  it 
all  to  you." 

His  father  paid  no  attention  to  this;  but  after 
putting  on  a  pair  of  spectacles,  undid  the  tape 
round  the  papers,  and,  laying  one  packet  before 
him,  said: 

"There's  the  twenty-five  thousand  pounds  you 
put  in  the  Funds.     I  have  added  half  of  all  we 

327 


Great  Days 

have  made  since  to  It,  and  it's  now  fifty  thousand 
pounds,  Master  Jack." 

"What?"  cried  Jack  in  astonishment. 

"Yes,  yes,"  said  his  father,  "and  more  than 
that.  You  have  taken  nothing  out,  and  it's  all 
been  going  in,  and  in  that  case  it's  astonishing  how 
money  grows." 

"Astonishing,  indeed,"  said  Jack,  "but  how  has 
it  doubled  itself?" 

"You  bought  in  at  fifty-four,"  said  his  father, 
"the  Funds  are  now  at  seventy.  These  savings  of 
yours,  if  sold  now,  would  fetch  over  fifty  thousand 
pounds." 

"Your  astonishment,"  the  old  man  went  on, 
"ought  to  show  you  your  own  weak  spot;  you 
don't  think  enough  of  money,  Jack,  how  quickly 
it  grows  and  how  quickly  it  melts,  like  a  snowball, 
indeed." 

Jack  laughed,  relieved:  "Even  that  knowledge 
may  come  to  me,  dad,"  he  said. 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 

"Now,  that's  yours,"  he  went  on,  shoving  the 
packet  across  the  table.  "You  can  do  what  you 
like  with  it.  But  if  I  were  you  I'd  never  touch  the 
principal  nor  alter  the  investment.  If  you  want 
to  send  it  to  Wiggins  he'll  collect  the  interest  on 

328 


Great  Days 

it  as  it  comes  in,  and  either  put  it  to  your  account 
or  add  it  to  the  principal  as  you  choose." 

"You're  a  wonderful  teacher,  dad,"  said  Jack, 
laughing,  'Til  take  your  advice  to  the  letter." 

"Now  here,"  said  the  old  man,  "is  the  mort- 
gage I've  got  on  The  Court.  It's  now  sixty  thou- 
sand pounds;  the  old  man  and  Master  Cecil  bor- 
rowed the  last  ten  thousand  they'll  get  from  me 
the  other  day.  The  Court's  worth  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds,  perhaps  a  hundred  and  twenty: 
but  I  don't  want  to  lend  more  than  half  the  value 
of  it.  They're  not  likely  to  get  anyone  in  these 
war  times  to  give  them  more  than  sixty  thousand 
for  it." 

Again  Jack  stared.  The  old  man's  calculation 
and  his  cunning  were  almost  inconceivable  to  him. 

"This  is  yours,  too,"  went  on  his  father,  touch- 
ing the  mortgage,  "when  you  want  it.  I  have 
made  out  a  deed,  and  here's  a  certified  copy  of  It: 
the  original  Is  deposited  with  Wiggins,  you  can 
have  the  certified  copy,"  he  said.  "When  I'm 
dead  and  gone  The  Court'll  be  yours." 

"But  what  will  Emily  have?"  asked  Jack. 

"When  I  gave  you  your  twenty-five  thousand," 
replied  his  father,  "I  gave  Emily  twenty-five  thou- 
sand, too.  Hers  has  grown  almost  as  quickly  as 
yours:     Emily    is    worth    nearly    fifty    thousand 

329 


Great  Days 

pounds  to-day,  and  I  have  tied  it  up  tight  on  her 
and  her  children.  She's  one  of  the  richest  heir- 
esses in  the  county  of  Sussex,  and  that's  good 
enough  for  her.  I  don't  know  where  she  came 
from,"  continued  the  old  man,  "she's  not  like  your 
mother  and  she  isn't  like  me.  But  she's  very  like 
a  sister  of  my  mother's.  I  often  think  our  chil- 
dren aren't  more  than  half  ours:  half  of  them 
belongs  to  the  father  and  mother,  the  other  half 
comes  from  the  past,  from  the  grandfathers  and 
grandmothers  and  great  grandfathers  and  great 
grandmothers,  and  so  on.  My  Aunt  Jane,"  he 
remarked,  "was  just  such  another  as  your  sister 
Emily,  always  thinking  of  dress  and  manners,  full 
of  little  affectations.  But  if  Emily  gets  children 
she'll  perhaps  get  sense.  Anyhow,  she's  provided 
for.  .  .  . 

"There's  nothing  more  except  the  Inn  and  the 
vessels  and  a  little  nest-egg  I've  got  which  I  say 
nothing  about  for  the  moment,  but  which  your 
smuggling  has  been  making  for  both  of  us.  Of 
course  you  shall  have  the  brigantine  and  the 
Dolphin;  and  Nancy  may  have  the  Inn  and  the 
little  craft;  quite  enough  for  her  to  live  on;  but 
whether  it'll  content  her  I  don't  know.  .  .   ." 

He  chuckled  to  himself.  "Take  up  your 
money,"    he    said,    and   give   it   to   Wiggins   to- 

330 


Great  Days 

morrow  and  I'll  give  him  back  this  mortgage. 
Now  we'll  have  another  drink,  my  boy!" 

"Don't  you  think  you've  drunk  enough,  dad?" 

The  old  man  burst  out  laughing:  "That's 
funny,"  he  said,  "that's  just  what  I've  been  think- 
ing about  you,  Jack;  you  can  stand  it  better,  but 
you  young  people  don't  need  it.  A  glass  or  two 
does  me  good,  picks  me  up  amazing,  clears  my 
head,  makes  me  feel  as  I  used  to  feel  twenty 
years  ago.  But  even  a  little  does  you  harm,  you're 
all  right  without  it." 

Jack  laughed:  "You're  a  good  arguer,"  he 
said.  "I've  begun  to  think  you're  right,  but  one 
glass  won't  hurt  either  of  us." 

A  little  later  his  father  went  back  to  the  train 
of  thought  he  had  already  dismissed. 

",You  thought  I  was  blind  to  what  was  going 
on,  didn't  you?"  he  asked  with  half-closed  eyes. 

"No,  but  I  didn't  imagine  you  saw  as  clearly  as 
you  do,"  Jack  admitted. 

"I  see  a  good  deal,"  said  the  old  man  boastingly. 
"Nancy  will  be  well  off,  but  whether  she'll  have 
enough  to  keep  Crosby  faithful  to  her  or  not, 
I  don't  know,"  and  the  old  man  chuckled  dia- 
bolically. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  Jack  aghast. 

"I  mean,"  said  the  old  man,  looking  at  him 

331 


Great  Days 

sideways  out  of  narrow  eyes,  "I  mean  to  give  her 
the  whip  hand  over  Master  Crosby  when  I'm 
gone  and  she  has  a  fiend's  temper  when  she  gets 
angry  or  has  a  Httle  drink  in  her,"  and  again  the 
old  man  chuckled. 

"Good  God!"  cried  Jack.  "Why  do  you  live 
with  her  if  you  think  that  of  her?" 

"Can't  help  it,"  said  the  old  man;  "after  all, 
what  is  there  in  life  besides  getting  a  bit  of  power 
and  enjoying  yourself.  Rum's  bad  for  me;  the 
first  glass  does  me  no  harm,  but  every  glass  after- 
wards hurts  me,  makes  me  fat,  too.  I  never  took 
it  so  long  as  life  was  interesting,  but  now  I've  got 
about  as  far  as  I  can  get.  I've  left  you  and 
your  sister  well  off  and  I'm  often  a  bit  low; 
besides  I  like  a  drop  of  rum,  so  I  drink  It.  .  .  ." 

"I  like  Nancy,  too,"  he  began  again.  "She's  a 
splendid  piece  of  flesh  and  blood,  but  I  would 
not  give  her  the  whip  hand  for  a  good  deal  .  .  ." 
and  he  poured  himself  out  another  drink,  almost 
neat  this  time;  Jack  looked  on  without  remon- 
strance as  at  some  strange  revelation  of  life  half 
divined. 

"A  rare  good  piece  is  Nancy,"  his  father  went 
on,  as  If  to  himself.  "I  ought  to  have  met  her 
first  and  your  mother  afterwards.  You  know," 
he  said,  "your  mother  was  the  only  good  woman  I 

332 


Great  Days 

ever  met  In  my  life.  She  taught  me  all  the  kind 
things;  a  rare  good  woman,  and  I  wouldn't  cheat 
you  or  your  sister  for  ten  thousand  Nancies.  And 
as  for  Crosby,  he's  making  himself  a  nice  bed. 
When  I  go  I'd  like  to  see  him  In  It,"  and  the  old 
man  chuckled,  "the  swaggering  big  fool!" 

Jack  felt  that  there  was  no  more  to  be  said. 
A  little  later  he  took  his  father  home  and  delivered 
him  over  to  Nancy. 

But  his  father's  advice  didn't  do  Jack  much 
good.  He  stopped  drinking.  It  Is  true,  for  a  few 
days,  but  gradually  he  took  It  up  again,  and  in 
the  winter  evenings  he  drank  more  heavily  than 
ever. 

The  party  at  The  Court  had  all  separated  and 
gone  up  to  London,  but  my  Lords  MandevUle 
and  Barrymore  had  come  down  for  the  shooting 
and  Jack  knew  from  the  tittle-tattle  of  Nugent 
and  Myring  and  from  occasional  things  his  sister, 
Emily  let  drop  that  MandevUle  was  as  determined 
in  his  pursuit  of  Margaret  as  ever. 

His  sister  had  become  very  religious,  almost 
saintly  indeed;  she  was  In  the  church  at  all  hours 
and  when  she  wasn't  in  the  church  she  was  talk- 
ing to  young  Carrol.  She  knew  all  about  the 
Creeds  and  copes  and  chasubles  and  had  even 

333 


Great  Days 

taken  to  dressing  her  hair  Madonna  fashion  in 
the  house.  When  out  walking  she  wore  the  fash- 
ionable toque  without  feathers  and  depressed  at 
the  edges  which  gave  her  a  nun-like  air.  But  she 
went  up  to  The  Court  as  often  as  ever  and  now 
and  then  she  condescended  to  tell  Jack  what  was 
going  on  there.  One  day  she  told  him  about 
some  private  theatricals  and  how  in  the  middle 
of  a  scene  Lord  Mandeville,  having  to  declare 
his  love,  had  forgotten  his  part  and  gone  on  both 
knees  to  Margaret,  crying: 

"I'll  be  the  happiest  man  in  London  If  you'll 
marry  me,  and  that's  true,  though  I  can't  remem- 
ber the  words. 

"How  did  she  take  it?"  asked  Jack. 

"She  liked  it,"  said  his  sister,  "every  woman 
would." 

Jack  went  away  and,  as  soon  as  he  could,  got 
out  of  the  house  Into  the  air.  "Every  woman 
would,"  of  course  they  would!  He  walked  to  the 
edge  of  The  Court  domain  to  a  place  In  the  fence 
where  through  the  trees  he  could  see  the  house, 
and  there  he  stood  in  the  drizzling  rain  for  a 
couple  of  hours  gazing  at  the  place  with  burning 
eyets  and  heavy  heart. 

How  long  he  had  been  there  he  never  knew. 
Something  made   him  turn   and  instinctively  he 

334 


Great  Days 

took  three  or  four  steps  across  the  grass  to  the 
road. 

In  the  dusk  a  figure  was  coming  towards  him. 
His  heart  seemed  to  stop  in  his  throat,  choking: 
it  was  Margaret.  As  she  came  up  to  him  she 
bowed  as  if  she  were  going  to  pass  on,  and  then 
perhaps  struck  by  his  immobility  she  stopped  and 
held  out  her  hand. 

"Good  evening,  Jack,"  she  said  simply.  "You're 
a  stranger." 

"Yes,"  retorted  Jack  roughly.  "I  don't  go 
where  I'm  not  wanted." 

"And  where  are  you  not  wanted?"  she  asked. 

"Not  at  The  Court,"  he  barked,  "with  my 
Lord  Mandeville." 

*No  one  has  ever  told  you  you  weren't  wanted 
at  The  Court,"  she  remarked  quietly. 

"One  knows  certain  things  without  being  told." 

"You  know  nothing,"  she  said  quickly.  "I 
sometimes  think  you  must  be  more  stupid  even 
than  most  men.  Yes,  stupid,"  she  said,  challenged 
by  his  glowering  look.  "How  can  you  go  on  liv- 
ing as  you  do  in  the  Inn  when  you  might  do  such 
great  things.  Mr.  Fox  talks  of  you  everywhere 
as  extraordinary,"  she  added  hastily,  "yet  you  go 
on  drinking  and  quarrelling — wasting  your  life." 

335 


Great  Days 

"How  do  you  know  what  Mr.  Fox  thinks?"  he 
asked.     "He  hasn't  returned  from  Paris  yet." 

"No,  but  Lord  Holland  has,  and  Lord  Holland 
told  me  that  Mr.  Fox  said  you  were  one  of  the 
ablest  men  he  had  ever  met.  'He  might  do  any- 
thing' were  his  words." 

Mollified  in  spite  of  himself.  Jack  could  not 
give  up  the  bitterness  of  the  thoughts  he  had 
lived  with  for  so  long. 

"What  does  it  matter  to  you,"  he  flung  out, 
"what  I  do  or  don't  do?" 

"It  matters  to  everyone  who  knows  you,"  she 
replied. 

"It  doesn't  matter  to  you,"  cried  Jack,  "how 
I  go  to  hell.  I'm  sick  of  smuggling,"  he  went  on. 
"I've  money  enough  without  it.  If  war  comes  I 
can't  fight  against  the  French  or  for  them.  What 
am  I  to  do?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  inscrutable  eyes:  "I 
don't  know.  Jack,"  she  said  slowly,  "but  you  can 
be  a  man  and  take  your  punishment  like  a  man, 
and  not  go  on  drinking  and  brawling.  .  .  .  You're 
not  the  only  one  to  suffer,"  she  added,  as  if  to  her- 
self, "but  suffering  should  make  us  kinder  and 
better,  and  not  degrade  us." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  degrade?" 

"I    mean,"    she    retorted,     "what    everybody 

336 


Great  Days 

knows,  that  you  fought  with  Crosby  about  a  girl 
called  Gretta  Knight." 

"Who  told  you  that  lie?"  he  barked. 

"It's  common  talk,"  she  defended. 

"And  you  listen  to  it?"  he  said  contemptuously. 

"I  can't  shut  my  ears,"  she  confessed,  "to  your 
sister." 

Jack  looked  at  her.  His  sister's  name  put 
something  into  his  head. 

"It's  a  lie,"  he  said,  "no  matter  who  tells  it,  but 
I  wanted  to  say  something  to  you,"  he  broke  in. 
"The  common  talk  is  that  you're  going  to  marry 
that  Lord  Mandeville  because  your  brother  has 
gambled  and  spent  a  fortune,  and  because  The 
Court's  mortgaged.  .  .  . 

"I  don't  know  what  effect  poverty  would  have 
on  you,"  he  went  on  after  a  pause.  "People  take 
It  for  granted  that  girls  will  do  anything  for 
money  or  to  help  their  relatives.  But  I  want  to 
tell  you  that  I  know  who  holds  the  mortgage  on 
The  Court  and  it  will  never  be  foreclosed  or  used 
against  you.  One  of  these  days  you  shall  have  It 
back.  The  Court  Is  yours.  You  needn't  marry 
for  money  unless  you  want  to." 

"As  if  money  matters,"  she  replied  disdainfully. 

"It  does  matter,"  he  insisted,  "it  might  matter 
greatly  to  you." 

337 


Great  Days 

"Never,"  she  retorted  proudly.  "You  don't 
know  me,"  and  made  as  if  to  pass  on. 

He  saw  the  outline  of  her  figure  against  the 
dusk  as  she  passed,  and  suddenly  her  words, 
"You're  not  the  only  one  to  suffer,"  which  he  had 
not  noticed  at  the  moment,  came  back  to  him,  and 
all  his  pent  up  passion  burst  out:  one  step  and  he 
threw  his  arms  round  her. 

"You're  the  only  woman  I  love  or  want,  sober 
or  drunk,  Margaret,  I  want  you — I  love  you." 

She  tried  vehemently  to  drag  herself  away,  but 
she  was  as  a  child  in  arms  of  steel.  He  put  his 
right  hand  round  her  shoulders  and  under  her 
chin  and  drew  her  head  back,  and  kissed  her  on 
the  mouth  again  and  again. 

She  struggled  with  him  indignantly. 

"You  brute,"  she  gasped. 

"Yes,  a  brute,"  he  cried,  "who  loves  you,  Mar- 
garet," and  he  went  on  kissing  her. 

Suddenly  he  noticed  that  she  was  not  resisting, 
and  at  once  the  wild  fit  passed;  then  half  repentant 
and  taken  in  a  flood  of  tenderness,  he  kissed  her 
on  the  shut  eyes  and  on  her  hair: 

"My  darling,  darling,  darling." 

"I'll  never  forgive  you,"  she  cried,  drawing 
herself  free.  "You've  hurt  me,"  and  she  moved 
away. 

338 


Great  Days 

But  Jack's  tenderness  had  overpowered  his 
passion,  and  now  it  gave  him  the  right  words : 

"You'll  forgive  me  all  right,"  he  said,  "perhaps 
sooner  than  I'll  forgive  myself,"  and  as  she 
stopped,  he  cried,  "Good-bye  dear,"  and  kneeling 
at  her  feet,  he  kissed  her  dress  and  her  hand,  and 
then  realising  his  own  misery  and  loss  turned  from 
her  Into  the  dark. 


S39 


BOOK  III 
CHAPTER  I 

THAT  last  talk  with  Margaret  had  taken 
away  a  good  deal  of  Jack's  bitterness.  It 
freed  him  to  a  certain  extent  from  jealousy  with 
its  perpetual  sensuous  excitation;  he  was  no  less 
hopeless,  but  the  thought  of  Margaret  for  some 
reason  or  other  lent  dignity  to  his  own  suffering. 
He  would  play  the  man  he  resolved  as  she  ad- 
vised, and  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  stop  drink- 
ing. In  the  first  days  he  was  astonished  to  find  the 
hold  the  habit  had  on  him;  he  had  to  resist  a 
continual  instinctive  craving.  Again  and  again 
he  was  on  the  point  of  drinking  when  he  remem- 
bered. The  struggle  roused  his  combativeness 
and  his  power  of  resolution,  and  after  three  or 
four  days  he  was  delighted  to  discover  that  the 
craving  had  left  him  altogether :  the  fight,  though 
sharp,  was  short. 

Immediately  he  left  off  drinking  he  began  to 
notice  how  stupid  he  had  been  ever  to  let  the 
habit  get  any  hold  on  him.     Not  only  did  his 

341 


Great  Days 

general  health  improve,  but  he  soon  took  as  much 
pleasure  in  drinking  tea  and  milk  as  he  had  found 
in  drinking  wine  and  spirits.  Besides,  this  one 
act  of  self-denial,  rewarded  as  it  was,  made  all 
other  acts  of  self-denial  easier  to  him.  He  now 
noticed  what  the  drink  had  hitherto  concealed: 
that  this  or  that  dish  disagreed  with  him;  he 
promptly  refused  it  with  the  result  that  his  health 
soon  became  perfect  and  his  enjoyment  of  life 
and  interest  in  living  grew  almost  from  day  to 
day. 

On  his  way  to  the  ship  one  day  Jack  met  Emily 
going  to  church.  She  looked  charmingly  demure 
Jack  thought  and  was  getting  prettier  than  ever. 

After  a  few  words  of  greeting  he  suddenly 
asked  her: 

"By  the  bye  Emily,  why  did  you  tell  Margaret 
Barron  that  Crosby  and  I  fought  about  Gretta 
Knight;  you  must  have  known  that  was  not  true?" 

"I  didn't  know  anything  of  the  sort,"  she  flashed 
out.  "I  had  seen  Crosby  talking  to  Gretta  quite 
lately,  and  she  certainly  used  to  be  a  flame  of 


yours." 


"A  flame  of  mine?"  cried  Jack.  "You  must  be 
mad." 

"I'm  not  mad  at  all,"  she  retorted.  "It  was 
all  over  the  village  that  you  were  seen  kissing 

342 


Great  Days 

her  and  the  girl  didn't  deny  it;  I  asked  her  at 
the  time;  she  couldn't  deny  it." 

"Oh  you  did,  did  you?"  said  Jack.  "Well,  I 
wish  you  would  not  interfere  in  my  business.  It 
would  be  better,"  he  went  on  hotly,  "if  you  kept 
your  unholy  suggestions  to  yourself.  Why  you 
should  want  to  hurt  me  with  Margaret  Barron 
I  can't,  for  the  life  of  me,  imagine." 

"Hurt  you,"  cried  his  sister  disdainfully.  "You 
don't  know  what  you're  talking  about.  It  was  the 
very  way  to  make  her  think  more  of  you.  A  little 
jealousy  does  a  woman  no  harm;  it  wakes  her 
up  and  makes  her  realise  where  she  stands. 
I  can  assure  you  if  she  doesn't  feel  jealousy  she 
certainly  doesn't  feel  love.  Lots  of  women  are 
jealous  without  loving,  but  no  woman  loves  with- 
out being  jealous.  If  everyone  did  you  as  much 
good  with  Margaret  Barron  as  I've  done,  you 
wouldn't  need  to  complain.  .  .  . 

"If  you  hadn't  gone  back  that  time  to  France 
and  made  a  fool  of  yourself  by  marrying  Suzanne 
it  might  all  have  been  different." 

"You  may  be  right,"  Jack  admitted  against  his 
will. 

"Of  course  I'm  right,"  she  said,  "and  you  know 


it." 


Jack  took  Riding  with  him  in  the  Dolphin  and 

343 


Great  Days 

went  over  to  Boulogne  more  to  see  how  the  land 
lay  than  with  any  purpose  even  of  smuggling. 
Curiously  enough  the  more  he  saw  of  Riding  the 
better  he  liked  him;  there  was  in  him  a  great 
fund  of  sound  sense,  a  kindliness,  too,  of  nature 
which  were  attaching.  Jack  often  marvelled 
where  he  got  his  wisdom  from,  as  Riding  seemed 
to  have  read  but  little.  Jack  was  only  beginning 
to  discover  that  one  learns  more  from  life  than 
from  books. 

The  smugglers  about  Wimereux  had  increased 
enormously  in  numbers;  there  were  nearly  a 
thousand  of  them  now  in  the  little  fishing  village, 
French  and  English,  a  floating  population  coming 
and  going,  a  population  of  hard  drinkers  and  hard 
fighters,  too,  if  need  were.  But  he  hadn't  much 
time  to  get  acquainted  with  them;  the  old  hands 
of  course  he  knew,  but  many  of  the  younger  men 
were  complete  strangers  to  him. 

He  was  astonished  one  day  to  find  a  stage-coach 
at  Pin's  door  and  in  the  hall  an  enormously  fat 
lady,  who,  when  she  moved  aside,  disclosed  just 
as  fat  a  man;  it  was  Mr.  Fox.  As  soon  as  he 
caught  sight  of  Jack  he  came  over  to  him  and 
held  out  his  hand. 

"The  very  man  I  wanted  to  see,"  he  cried 
cordially.     "Can  you  give  us  a  passage  across. 

344 


Great  Days 

My  wife,"  he  said,  "Mr.  Morgan,"  and  the  fat 
lady  smiled  at  Jack. 

"Of  course,"  said  Jack.  "I  shall  be  honoured, 
but  the  vessel's  the  same  little  craft." 

"Ah!  ha!"  roared  Mr.  Fox,  "you  remember  I 
was  afraid  there  would  not  be  room  for  me.  Now 
you'll  have  to  take  two  of  us  and  my  wife's  even 
bigger  than  I  am." 

Jack  asked  when  they  wished  to  start. 

"The  sooner  the  better,"  Mr.  Fox  cried,  so 
Jack  hurried  on  board  at  once  to  make  the  best 
preparation  possible  for  his  distinguished  passen- 
gers. 

That  same  afternoon  they  drew  out  of  harbour 
with  a  light  air  and  an  almost  perfectly  calm  sea. 
From  the  beginning  Mr.  Fox  treated  our  hero 
quite  differently  from  the  first  time,  like  a  friend 
indeed,  and  instead  of  sitting  almost  mute  on  deck 
he  talked  quite  freely  from  the  beginning,  perhaps 
rejoicing  a  little  in  the  pleasure  of  talking  English 
after  having  been  compelled  to  use  French  for 
months,  for  though  he  spoke  French  fluently,  it 
was  a  sort  of  English-French,  and  must  have 
seemed  funny  to  Bonaparte. 

"War  is  inevitable,"  he  told  Jack  in  the  course 
of  the  evening.  "Bonaparte  is  very  ambitious  and 
astoundingly  vain." 

345 


Great  Days 

"Do  you  think  him  a  great  man?"  Jack  ven- 
tured to  ask. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Mr.  Fox,  a  little  reluc- 
tantly, "but  successful  men  are  never  so  great  as 
they  are  made  out  to  be;  it's  like  judging  a  man 
by  his  shadow,"  he  went  on,  as  if  he  had  thought 
of  the  matter  before,  "and  that's  never  so  large 
as  when  his  sun's  near  the  setting. 

"Bonaparte,"  he  resumed  in  a  brisker  way,  "has 
curious  illusions;  he  was  persuaded  that  English 
ministers  had  tried  to  assassinate  him.  I  told  him 
to  put  that  out  of  his  head.  He  has  an  aston- 
ishing sense  of  his  own  importance ;  he  thinks  the 
world  turns  round  him.  And  in  Paris  they 
appear  to  regard  him  as  omnipotent.  ...  It  is 
curious  what  flunkies  men  are,  even  in  a  republic," 
he  added,  as  if  amused  with  human  folly. 

Jack  put  before  him  Caressa's  view  of  Bona- 
parte; told  what  he  had  done  in  that  first 
marvellous  Italian  campaign,  but  Mr.  Fox  did 
not  appear  to  be  greatly  impressed. 

"I  daresay  he  can  strike  quickly  and  ruthlessly," 
he  admitted.  "He  seemed  to  me  amazingly  clear 
and  decisive  rather  than  big,"  he  went  on,  as  if 
trying  to  give  words  to  vague,  because  hitherto 
undefined,   feelings.     "Great  men  as  a   rule  are 

34>6 


Great  Days 

richer  in  temperament  than  he  appears  to  be, 
and  richer  in  faults,  too,"  he  added. 

"One  has  to  judge  everyone  by  oneself,"  he 
explained.  "As  a  young  man  I  went  astray  in 
every  direction  and  fell  into  every  sort  of  quag- 
mire. Like  the  prodigal  son  I  wasted  my  strength 
in  riotous  hving  and  my  substance  at  the  gaming- 
table— all  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  Caesar, 
too,  ran  into  debt,"  he  said,  as  if  defending  him- 
self, "owed  more  than  anyone  ever  owed  in  Rome 
before,  but  Bonaparte  has  no  rich,  generous 
faults;  his  conceit,  his  self-confidence,  seemed  to 
me  his  weak  point,  the  rock  on  which  he  may 
founder;  but  then  I  don't  know  him  really,"  he 
added  meditatively. 

"You  were  right  in  one  thing,"  he  resumed, 
addressing  Jack  directly.  "France  has  assuredly 
recovered  strength  and  health  and  hope  in  the 
most  remarkable  fashion;  every  Frenchman  one 
meets  resents  our  English  policy,  or  perhaps  one 
should  call  it  the  English  temper  of  suspicion  and 
contempt  of  all  things  French.  It's  a  great  pity 
that  the  two  peoples  cannot  understand  each  other 
better.  ... 

"I'm  inclined  to  think  sometimes,"  he  said, 
looking  at  Jack  and  laughing,  "that  we  should 
imprison  half  our  insular  population  in  France 

347 


Great  Days 

as  you  were  imprisoned  for  a  year  or  so;  and 
half  the  Frenchmen  in  England;  then  there  might 
be  some  chance  that  they'd  live  together  peaceably. 
But  there's  going  to  be  war.  Bonaparte  is  full 
of  the  idea  that  he  can  conquer  England.  .  .  . 

"I'm  not  a  sailor,"  Mr.  Fox  went  on,  "but  it 
seems  to  me  a  pretty  difficult  business  even  to  land 
a  large  force;  isn't  it?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  laughed  Jack. 

"Could  a  large  force  be  ferried  over  on  rafts 
or  flat-bottomed  boats?"  Mr.  Fox  questioned  fur- 
ther. 

"One  frigate,"  replied  Jack,  "could  deal  with 
a  thousand  rafts — one  revenue  cutter  even  would 
play  havoc  with  a  dozen  of  'em;  the  idea  is 
ridiculous." 

"Oh,  ho!"  laughed  Mr.  Fox.  "Bonaparte 
would  give  something  for  a  talk  with  you,  my 
friend,  but  I  expect  there  are  not  many  sailors  like 
you  in  England  and  fewer  still  in  France." 

"There  are  good  and  bad  sailors  everywhere," 
said  Jack.  "I  have  met  good  French  sailors," 
he  added,  thinking  of  the  captain  of  the  frigate 
that  had  captured  the  brigantine. 

When  they  reached  Hurstpoint,  Jack  wanted 
to  know  whether  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fox  would  like 
to  go  direct  to  London,  but  they  decided  to  pass 

348 


Great  Days 

the  night  at  the  Inn  which  Mr.  Fox  declared  had 
the  best  Burgundy  he  had  ever  tasted. 

When  the  dinner  was  prepared  Mr.  Fox  in- 
sisted that  Jack  should  sit  down  with  them,  and 
at  the  end  of  dinner  when  the  Burgundy  had  been 
approved  he  suddenly  asked  his  guest: 

"Why  don't  you  get  a  commission  in  our  navy?" 

"There'd  be  no  chance  of  that,"  replied  Jack, 
flushing  with  pleasure. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Fox  in  the  careless  large 
way  that  added  to  the  value  of  the  promise,  "I 
haven't  much  credit  with  the  government,  but  I 
think  I've  enough  for  that.  I  will  see  about  it 
when  I  get  to  London  if  you  like." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Jack,  "but  I'm  married  to 
a  Frenchwoman,"  he  went  on  hesitatingly. 

"The  deuce  you  are,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Fox. 
"Does  that  give  you  a  divided  allegiance?" 

"It  makes  fighting  the  French  more  difficult 
for  me,"  replied  Jack. 

"You  must  remember,"  said  Mr.  Fox  after  a 
pause,  "that  you  are  not  really  fighting  France 
now,  but  Bonaparte.  I've  retired  from  pubhc 
affairs,"  he  added,  "simply  because  I  didn't  wish 
to  combat  French  ideas  which  seemed  to  me  just 
and  right.  But  now  Bonaparte  is  making  himself 
a  despot.    I  should  have  no  hesitation  in  combat- 

34f> 


Great  Days 

ing  his  ambitions  and  fighting  him.  It's  a  very 
hard  thing,"  he  continued  meditatively,  "to  go 
against  one's  country,  very  difficult  indeed  to  know 
when  not  to  go  with  it  even  when  it's  in  the 
wrong;  it's  like  judging  one's  mother — very  diffi- 
cult and  disagreeable  at  the  best.  ..." 

Jack  was  struck  with  the  sad  gravity  of  his 
tone  and  manner;  struck,  too,  with  the  compari- 
son. 

"I  think  you  should  have  a  commission,"  Mr. 
Fox  resumed.  "If  I'm  right,  you'll  need  it  before 
long,"  and  Jack  did  not  dissent,  though  he  was 
not  yet  fully  persuaded. 

In  all  their  talks  together  Jack  drew  a  certain 
inspiration  from  the  great  man.  Mr.  Fox  was 
the  only  person  except  old  Dr.  Sauvan  who  had 
ever  talked  general  ideas  to  him,  and  they  stim- 
ulated his  mind  and  quickened  his  own  thinking. 

He  understood  the  fascination  exercised  by  the 
man  who  continually  referred  to  general  ideas 
of  justice  and  benevolence,  and  was  never  a  par- 
tisan of  his  own  class,  but  a  friend  of  the  friend- 
less with  large  generous  instincts. 


350 


CHAPTER  II 

WHILE  still  weighing  Mr.  Fox's  words  and 
expecting  vaguely  to  receive  from  him 
the  promised  commission  Jack  received  a  short 
letter  from  Caressa:  "Suzanne  is  ill,  come  at 
once." 

Jack  showed  the  letter  to  his  father  and  set  off 
the  same  day.  On  his  way  to  Cherbourg  he 
couldn't  help  reproaching  himself;  he  had  been 
away  from  Suzanne  a  considerable  time  and  had 
been  faithless  to  her  in  thought  and  in  feeling,  if 
not  in  deed;  nor  could  he  conceal  from  himself 
that  their  estrangement  was  in  the  main  his  fault. 

When  he  reached  Cherbourg  he  was  shocked 
to  find  her  in  bed;  she  had  caught  a  cold,  it  ap- 
peared, and  had  got  congestion  of  the  lungs,  and 
in  her  condition  hadn't  been  able  to  shake  it  off. 
She  was  inclined  to  be  querulous  and  reproachful 
at  first,  but  Jack  met  her  with  real  tenderness,  and 
laid  himself  out  to  think  of  nothing  but  her  and 
her  comfort.  A  few  days  of  his  constant  tendance 
made  her  resolve  to  get  up,  and  in  a  week  she 

351 


Great  Days 

began  to  come  downstairs  regularly.  Within  a 
month  Doctor  Sauvan  said  that  her  lungs  were  all 
right  again,  the  congestion  had  been  overcome  and 
had  only  left  a  slight  trace,  though  great  weakness. 

Every  fine  day  Jack  took  her  out  for  a  drive, 
and  she  soon  began  to  get  about  the  house  ap- 
parently in  her  usual  health  save  for  a  little  cough 
which  now  and  then  seized  her  when  she  took 
unusual  exercise. 

In  this  quiet  time  of  home  duties  and  daily 
observances  Jack  was  delighted  to  renew  ac- 
quaintance with  both  Sauvan  and  the  little  Colonel. 
Caressa  seemed  to  have  become  dearer  to  him 
through  absence.  Jack  could  not  help  loving  the 
peppery  little  man  who  fought  for  his  ideas  and 
beliefs  just  as  he  must  have  charged  at  the  head 
of  his  Chasseurs,  with  all  his  heart  and  soul  in 
the  business.  He  had  been  decorated  by  Bona- 
parte with  an  officer's  cross  of  the  Legion  of  Hon- 
our and  he  was  passionately  convinced  that  the 
distinction  was  the  highest  on  earth,  as  indeed  it 
was  for  some  time  after  its  inauguration. 

Jack  was  not  inclined  to  take  as  much  interest 
in  Dr.  Sauvan  as  he  had  formerly  taken.  He 
knew  now  that  the  man  was  selfish  and  self- 
absorbed  and  had  not  much  kindness  in  him  to 
spend  on  anyone.    But  Jack  could  not  help  seeing 

352 


Great  Days 

that  the  doctor  had  read  widely  and  had  been 
brought  up  to  think  in  a  precise  good  school.  To 
hear  Sauvan  and  the  Colonel  arguing,  the  one  in 
favour  of  the  Revolution  and  equality  and  the 
other  in  love  with  an  all-wise  and  all-good  despot, 
was  an  unforgettable  experience.  In  face  of  the 
great  fact  that  in  ten  years  France  had  come  from 
the  depths  of  poverty  and  misery  to  an  astonish- 
ing height  of  comfort  and  power  it  was  impossible 
to  deny  that  the  Doctor's  theories  of  equality  had 
to  a  certain  extent  justified  themselves.  The 
nobles  and  priests  had  been  dispossessed  and  their 
land  divided  among  millions  of  poor  peasants. 
Hope  had  spread  immediately  through  the  people, 
hope  and  energy,  and  these  had  brought  in  their 
train  wealth  and  power.  It  was  the  Revolution, 
Sauvan  insisted  which  had  supplied  Bonaparte 
with  force;  in  himself  he  was  nothing — a  little 
Corsican  adventurer. 

"But  till  he  came,"  Caressa  cried,  "till  he  came 
you  had  nothing  but  defeats,  or,  at  best,  a  victory 
now  and  a  defeat  to-morrow,  nothing  decisive. 
It's  his  genius  that  has  turned  the  tide,  his  per- 
sonality has  made  all  the  difference." 
Sauvan  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders: 
"Wait  and  see,"  he  would  say,  "wait  and  see. 
The  world  has  already  paid  a  good  deal  for  its 

353 


Great  Days 

childish  belief  in  great  men,   and   France'll  yet 
have  to  pay  heavily  for  her  belief  in  Bonaparte." 

Jack  was  not  at  all  satisfied  that  either  man 
represented  the  whole  truth.  His  talks  with  Mr. 
Fox  had  given  him  a  certain  confidence  in  him- 
self and  in  his  own  judgment  which  he  had  hitherto 
lacked.  One  day  he  put  it  to  the  two  men  whether 
it  wouldn't  be  possible  to  reconcile  their  theories. 

"No,  no,"  said  Sauvan,  "they  are  contradic- 
tories and  cannot  be  reconciled." 

Even  Caressa  shrugged  his  shoulders:  "What 
sort  of  an  army  would  that  be  in  which  a  general 
and  a  common  soldier  were  on  the  same  level; 
who  takes  as  much  care  of  his  hands  or  feet  as 
he  does  of  his  head  or  esteems  his  toes  the  equal 
of  his  eyes?" 

But  Jack  was  determined  to  get  his  vague  feel- 
ing into  words : 

"How  would  it  be,"  he  said,  "if  there  could 
be  equality  or  a  great  approach  to  equality  in 
necessaries,  while  keeping  all  the  distinctions  as 
honours.  The  toes  need  to  be  nourished  just  as 
much  as  the  eyes,  and  if  you  starve  the  toes,  the 
eyes  will  soon  close  of  themselves.  It  seems  to 
me  that  all  should  be  assured  of  the  necessaries  of 
life   and   we   should  keep   the   honours   for   the 

354 


Great  Days 

higher  functions.  Honours  would  be  more  es- 
teemed if  they  could  not  be  won  by  money." 

But  each  of  the  combatants  preferred  his  half 
truth  and  fought  for  it  all  the  more  passionately 
because  its  limitations  suited  the  shortcomings  of 
his  own  nature. 

Jack  got  accustomed  to  reading  a  good  deal  in 
the  parlour  with  his  wife,  and  he  found  she  was 
quite  happy  so  long  as  he  was  with  her,  and  would 
listen  to  her  chatter  about  household  affairs  and 
the  small  talk  of  the  prison.  Since  she  had  be- 
come a  mother  Suzanne  had  developed  a  new 
personahty;  she  not  only  fulfilled  all  the  duties 
of  the  part  with  exemplary  tenderness,  but  was 
endowed  with  a  new  self-esteem  and  a  new  confi- 
dence in  herself  and  her  judgment.  Even  Jack 
was  not  so  necessary  to  her  as  he  had  been,  and 
she  ordered  both  him  and  her  uncle  about  at  will. 
The  baby-girl  and  her  mother  were  the  chief  per- 
sonages in  the  household;  Suzanne  said  the  baby 
had  Jack's  eyes  and  the  Colonel's  chin;  but  only 
a  young  mother  could  discover  the  likeness. 

In  this  quiet  interlude  Jack,  too,  got  to  know 
his  little  girl-daughter  and  became  really  at- 
tached to  her;  the  effort  to  excite  her  love,  the 
very  care  and  attention  he  lavished  on  her  in- 
creased his  affection,  and  the  mother  was  delighted 

355 


Great  Days 

to  believe  that  Jack  was  In  love  with  the  daughter 
for  her  sake. 

Altogether  the  little  household  was  very  happy 
and  very  contented  till  one  day  Caressa  got  an 
official  letter.  It  was  from  the  First  Consul  tell- 
ing him  curtly  that  war  with  England  was  prac- 
tically resolved  on,  and  that  he  must  consult  with 
the  Mayor  and  devise  measures  to  seize  all  the 
English  visitors  and  travellers  In  Cherbourg  at 
the  declaration  of  war  and  put  them  in  prison. 

The  little  Colonel  was  too  loyal  to  his  chief 
and  benefactor  to  hesitate  or  even  to  criticise  him, 
but  he  couldn't  regard  Jack  as  an  enemy,  and  so 
he  showed  him  the  letter. 

It  was  plain  that  Jack  must  leave  France  at 
once,  for  even  Caressa  was  frightened.  He  felt 
uncertain  whether  Bonaparte  would  or  would  not 
proceed  to  extremities  with  his  prisoners.  Every- 
thing was  possible  to  him,  the  Colonel  admitted; 
everything  that  seemed  likely  to  make  victory 
more  certain.  "He  would  sacrifice  himself,"  said 
Caressa  half  proudly,  "why  not  you  or  me?" 

The  argument  was  irresistible.  Jack  could  only 
beg  Suzanne  to  take  care  of  herself  and  assure 
her  that  he  would  not  fight  against  France  and 
then  hurry  away. 

It  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  he  got  to 

356 


Great  Days 

Boulogne.  Luckily  for  him  his  knowledge  of 
French  was  now  so  good  that  among  ordinary 
people  at  any  rate  he  could  pass  easily  for  a 
Frenchman.  Luckily,  too,  Caressa  had  taken  care 
to  furnish  him  with  a  complete  passport  counter- 
signed by  the  Mayor  of  Cherbourg,  for  he  was 
stopped  again  and  again.  Evidently  Bonaparte's 
orders  had  gone  out  all  over  France  and  were 
being  obeyed  enthusiastically.  But  though  the 
imperious  will  was  operative  at  Boulogne  it 
ceased  three  miles  out  of  the  town  at  Wimereux. 

As  soon  as  Jack  got  to  Pin's  cafe  he  was  as 
safe  and  as  welcome  as  he  would  have  been  in 
Hurstpoint,  for  the  whole  smugglers'  camp  was 
disgusted  with  the  idea  of  war.  Their  trade  had 
grown  enormously  in  the  year  of  peace  and  they 
knew  that  as  soon  as  war  was  declared  the  French- 
men among  them  might  at  any  moment  be  brought 
under  the  heel  of  the  French  soldiery,  while  the 
Englishmen,  if  they  returned  home,  were  in  danger 
of  being  "pressed"  for  the  English  navy.  The 
camp  was  like  a  hive  of  angry  bees,  every  man 
buzzing  about  uneasily  ready  to  sting  anyone. 

Jack  had  been  four  days  in  Pin's  when  the  news 
came  that  war  had  been  declared.  He  immediately 
made  up  his  mind  to  cross  next  day  in  any  craft 
he  could  find.     He  had  been  away  a  long  time, 

357 


Great  Days 

and,  though  he  would  not  acknowledge  it  to  him- 
self, he  wanted  to  get  back.  He  wanted  to  see 
his  father  and  Riding,  he  persuaded  himself,  but 
whatever  the  reason,  his  village  drew  him. 

As  luck  would  have  it  next  morning  he  saw  the 
Dolphin  off  the  port.  An  hour  later  he  had  Rid- 
ing at  breakfast  with  him  and  was  listening  to  all 
his  news. 

His  sister,  it  appeared,  had  married  Carrol  and 
was  settled  down  in  The  Grange.  Cecil  Barron 
had  died  in  London  and  there  was  mourning  at 
The  Court. 

Riding  was  eager  to  know  whether  Jack  was 
going  to  take  a  hand  in  the  war.  Jack  told  him 
that  for  the  time  being  he  was  resolved  to  do 
nothing.  In  spite  of  his  extraordinary  tact  Rid- 
ing ventured  to  say  that  Gosport  was  very  eager 
and  had  got  a  big  cannon  mounted  amidships  on 
the  brigantine  and  was  aching  to  try  conclusions 
with  any  man-o'-war  in  the  French  navy.  But 
Jack  would  not  hear  of  a  privateering  cruise. 

"It's  perhaps  unfortunate,"  he  said,  "but  I've 
too  many  ties  in  France.  We  will  talk  it  all  over 
with  my  father  when  I  go  back." 

And  therewith  Riding  had  to  be  content. 


358 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  same  evening  Jack  sailed  for  Hurstpoint, 
ran  in  under  the  Head  about  midnight  and 
slept  in  his  own  bed  at  the  Inn.  Next  morning 
to  his  astonishment  when  he  came  down  to  break- 
fast his  father  was  not  there.  Usually  the  old 
man  got  up  as  soon  as  it  was  light. 

"Old  people,"  he  used  to  say,  "need  little  sleep." 
But  now  he  appeared  to  need  a  good  deal,  and 
even  in  the  mornings  he  looked  fagged  and  tired. 

Jack  caught  himself  wondering  often  whether 
he  was  not  much  older  than  he  had  given  himself 
out  to  be.  In  the  couple  of  years  since  he  had 
married  Nancy  he  had  changed  from  being  a  hale 
man,  who  might  have  passed  for  sixty,  into  an  old 
man  who  might  be  seventy-four  or  five. 

Jack  told  his  father  what  Riding  had  said  to 
him,  but  added  that  he  didn't  care  to  go  fighting 
at  once.  When  he  saw  that  his  father  was  not 
of  his  opinion  he  gave  it  as  an  excuse  that  he 
wanted  to  wait  for  the  commission  which  Mr.  Fox 

359 


Great  Days 

had  promised  him,  and  his  father  readily  accepted 
this  reason  for  inaction. 

"It's  as  well  to  get  the  commission  first,"  he 
said  with  his  usual  cunning,  "for  if  you  do  some- 
thing afterwards,  you'll  get  rewarded.  Meantime, 
you  know,  a  bit  of  smuggling  is  always  profitable, 
and  it's  safe  enough.  Riding  tells  me  that  the 
brigantine  has  the  heels  of  any  craft  he  has  ever 
seen,  so  I  think  we  should  add  to  our  nest-egg." 

"You  love  the  smugghng,"  said  Jack,  amused 
as  always  by  his  father's  greed  of  money,  "but 
what  do  you  mean  by  'nest-egg'  ?" 

"Don't  you  remember?"  said  his  father,  "that 
I  am  putting  another  little  fortune  together  for 
my  grand-daughter;  it's  quite  a  respectable  size 
by  now,"  he  added,  smiling. 

"Really?"  queried  Jack  in  surprise. 

"Over  ten  thousand  pounds,"  said  his  father, 
"and  growing.  Besides  three  or  four  thousand 
pounds'  worth  of  brandy  in  the  Inn,  that'll  double 
in  price  before  long." 

Jack  used  his  first  free  afternoon  to  go  to  The 
Grange  to  visit  his  sister.  He  found  her  settled 
down  in  the  most  matronly  way  in  the  world  with 
Carrol;  "Frederic,"  as  she  called  him,  with  gusto 
every  mmute  or  two. 

When  Jack  told  her  that  he  scarcely  recognised 

360 


Great  Days 

his  old  school  mate  as  "Frederic,"  having  always 
called  him  Fred  or  Carrol,  she  remarked  that  the 
full  name  was  much  finer. 

"It  comes  from  the  German,  you  know — 
Friedreich  and  really  means  'rich  in  peace,'  a 
noble  name,  I  think  it." 

Jack  could  not  help  laughing;  she  would  have 
plaited  the  mane  and  twined  ribbons  in  the  tail 
of  the  White  Horse  of  Revelations,  if  he  had  be- 
longed to  her. 

But  if  Emily  had  blossomed  into  new  life 
Carrol  seemed  to  have  grown  more  retiring  and 
more  self-absorbed  than  ever.  Jack  talked  to  him 
for  some  time  that  afternoon  before  he  would 
come  out  of  his  shell,  but  as  soon  as  he  let  himself 
go  Jack  found  there  was  more  in  him  than  he 
had  suspected,  a  sort  of  tremulous  sensibility  to 
whatever  was  most  beautiful  in  art  or  nature. 
Suddenly  he  asked  Jack  whether  he  had  ever  read 
anything  of  Blake's  and  when  Jack  told  him  he 
had  never  heard  the  fellow's  name  Carrol  assured 
him  warmly  that  Blake  was  one  of  the  greatest 
of  Englishmen;  spoke  of  him  in  fact  with  such 
passionate  enthusiasm  that  he  excited  Jack's 
curiosity.  He  quoted  a  couple  of  lines  of  Blake's 
that  always  afterwards  remained  with  Jack  as 
the  quintessence  of  poetry;  as  discovering  indeed 

361 


Great  Days 

a  magic  realm  of  loveliness  which  Jack  had  never 
dreamed  of. 

....  Let  thy  west  wind  sleep  on 
The  lake;    speak  silence  with  thy  glimmering  eyes, 
And  wash  the  dusk  with  silver. 

And  this  fine  taste  in  Carrol  was  coupled  with 
a  very  high  standard  of  conduct.  He  had  been 
trying,  it  appeared,  to  turn  Gretta  Carter  from 
her  evil  ways;  had  got  her  husband  work  and 
had  given  her  employment,  too,  in  taking  care 
of  the  church  vestry.  Jack  found  that  this  pious 
mission  of  Carrol  was  not  well  looked  upon  by 
his  sister,  who  sneered  a  little  at  it  while  main- 
taining that  Gretta  Carter  didn't  interest  her. 

But  all  human  souls,  Jack  found,  particularly 
all  those  who  needed  care  or  help,  were  interest- 
ing to  her  husband.  Suddenly  he  remembered 
that  Margaret  had  praised  Carrol  at  one  time 
and  now  he,  too,  began  to  regard  him  with  ad- 
miration, as  one  who  opened  up  new  spiritual 
horizons.  He  promised  himself  to  see  more  of 
his  old  school  chum  in  the  future. 

Carrol  on  his  side  had  been  interested  in  Jack 
by  hearing  from  Margaret  that  Mr.  Fox  had 
expressed  his  very  high  appreciation  of  Jack's 
ability.    In  a  little  while  he  realised  that  Jack  was 

362 


Great  Days 

not  nearly  such  a  materialist  as  he  had  imagined, 
and  at  once  he  began  to  look  on  him  as  a  possible 
convert.  He  lent  Jack  one  of  Swedenborg's 
works,  Heaven  &  Hell,  and  begged  him  to  take 
it  away  with  him  and  study  it  at  his  leisure.  Jack 
promised  he  would  do  his  best,  though  at  the 
same  time  he  felt  certain  in  his  own  mind  that  he 
would  learn  more  from  talking  to  Carrol  than 
from  reading  a  dozen  Swedenborgs. 

When  on  the  point  of  leaving  The  Grange  his 
sister  told  him  that  it  was  his  duty  to  call  at  The 
Court,  and  Carrol  agreed  with  her.  Jack  ar- 
ranged to  go  up  there  next  day  with  Emily,  and 
in  the  afternoon  they  went. 

Margaret  came  in  dressed  in  black  to  the  very 
throat;  the  sombre  vestment  Jack  thought  added 
to  the  stateliness  of  her  fine  figure;  she  met  Jack 
as  if  nothing  untoward  had  taken  place  between 
them  and  greeted  Emily  and  asked  after  Carrol 
as  if  she  were  accustomed  to  see  them  every  day. 
But  her  brother's  death  had  shaken  her;  now  and 
then  when  she  spoke  of  her  father  who  was  a  con- 
firmed invalid  or  of  her  mother  who  had  been 
confined  to  her  room  since  Cecil's  death  she  had 
some  difliculty  in  restraining  her  tears.  Jack's 
heart  beat  painfully;  he  would  have  liked  .  .  . 
but  he  had  no  right  .  .  .  had  lost  indeed  what 

363 


Great  Days 

little  right  he  had  .  .  .  and  so  went  on  chewing 
the  bitter  cud  of  regret  as  a  man  is  apt  to  do. 

But  if  his  sister  was  affected  she  was  not  want- 
ing in  tact.  She  inquired  very  warmly  for  Lady 
Barron  and  insisted  upon  running  up  to  see  her, 
and  so  left  the  two  together. 

Jack  was  at  a  loss.  As  soon  as  he  found  him- 
self alone  with  Margaret,  his  sympathy  carried 
him  away.  He  wanted  to  kiss  her,  to  comfort 
her,  to  tell  her  how  much  he  admired  her,  how 
wonderful  he  thought  her,  how  intensely  she  ap- 
pealed to  every  fibre  in  him.  The  way  she  got 
up  and  moved  across  the  room  set  the  pulses 
in  him  throbbing.  He  felt  he  must  restrain  him- 
self and  make  no  sign. 

Margaret  smoothed  the  way  for  him.  She  knew 
that  he  had  met  Mr.  Fox  again  and  she  wanted  to 
know  the  result  of  their  talk. 

Jack  told  her  that  Mr.  Fox  had  promised  to 
send  him  a  commission,  but  hadn't  done  it. 

Margaret  declared  that  it  could  only  be  forget- 
fulness;  Mr.  Fox  had  a  very  high  opinion  of  him 
and  she  advised  him  to  go  to  London  at  once  and 
see  Mr.  Fox.  She  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  Jack  wanted  to  be  a  king's  officer  and  her 
calm  assumption  had  its  effect  on  her  hearer. 

He  told  her  he  would  certainly  write   to  the 

364 


Great  Days 

great  man,  though  he  hated  asking  favours.  But 
Margaret  saw  nothing  out  of  the  way  in  asking 
for  the  fulfilment  of  a  promise. 

"Do  you  know?"  said  Jack,  getting  up  almost 
at  the  same  moment  that  Margaret  rose,  "I  find 
Carrol  very  interesting.  He  has  a  curious 
thoughtful  mind  and  he  believes  devoutly  now  in 
the  religion  of  his  childhood,  though  he  didn't 
believe  in  anything  much  when  we  were  at  school 
together;  he  has  altered  astonishingly." 

"I  didn't  know  him  at  all  when  he  was  a  boy," 
said  Margaret,  "but  since  he  came  from  Oxford 
first  he  has  always  interested  me.  He's  more  like 
a  woman  than  a  man,"  she  went  on,  "very  sensi- 
tive and  imaginative  with  an  extraordinary  love 
of  beauty,  an  extraordinary  power,  too,  of  living 
in  the  past.  He  has  transformed  the  church,  you 
know;  he's  making  it  almost  like  a  chantry  of  the 
Middle  Ages — the  ages  of  faith  as  he  calls  them." 

"I  notice,"  grumbled  Jack,  "that  he  talks  of 
the  early  Christian  Church  and  lecterns  and  chasu- 
bles, and  God  knows  what  besides." 

"He's  a  dear  and  very  gifted,"  said  Margaret, 
perhaps  resenting  the  criticism  a  little,  "and  I 
like  him  very  much;  he  has  been  more  than  kind 
to  me  lately.  He  is  good,"  she  added  with  a  de- 
cisive air. 

SQ5 


Great  Days 

The  two  were  before  the  window  looking  out 
on  the  very  terrace  where  they  had  walked  a 
few  years  before. 

Without  reflection  Jack  found  himself  saying: 

"You  cured  me  of  drinking,  you  know,  Mar- 
garet; I  owe  you  a  great  deal,"  and  he  held  out 
his  hand. 

She  looked  at  him  with  Inscrutable  eyes,  and 
after  a  pause  gave  him  her  hand.  As  soon  as 
he  felt  the  cool  white  hand  in  his,  he  knew  that 
this  was  the  reason  he  had  praised  her  gratefully, 
that  he  might  touch  her.  As  he  lifted  her  hand 
to  his  lips  he  sHd  his  palm  along  hers  till  he  held 
her  whole  hand;  he  wondered  why  kissing  it  gave 
him  such  keen  pleasure.  As  he  pushed  the  sleeve 
back  and  kissed  her  wrist  and  arm  she  drew  her 
hand  away.  He  noticed  that  her  cheeks  were  a 
little  flushed. 

A  moment  or  two  afterwards  his  sister  came 
into  the  room. 

A  little  later  the  brother  and  sister  took  a 
conventional  leave  and  went  down  the  drive  to- 
gether. 

"What  did  she  say  to  you?"  probed  his  sister. 

"Nothing,"   said  Jack. 

"I  won't  help  you,"  threatened  his  sister,  "if 
you  don't  pay  me  by  satisfying  my  curiosity." 


Great  Days 

"But  there's  nothing  to  tell,"  replied  Jack. 

His  sister  shrugged  her  shoulders:  "All  right; 
I  know  better;  but  it  doesn't  matter,"  and  there 
the  matter  ended. 

For  the  life  of  him  Jack  could  not  discuss 
Margaret  even  with  his  sister.  She  was  set  apart 
from  all  other  women  in  his  eyes  and  immeasura- 
bly above  them,  and  his  meeting  with  her  had  an 
extraordinary  effect  in  quickening  and  invigorating 
him;  her  mere  presence  helped  him;  her  esteem 
of  him  strengthened  his  self-respect.  Everything 
in  her  appealed  to  him,  her  thoughts,  her  quick 
imperious  intellect,  her  beauty.  How  right  she 
was  about  Carrol;  he  was  indeed,  as  she  had  said, 
a  mystic  of  extraordinary  sensitiveness. 

It  was  the  mystic  in  him  which  appealed  to 
Jack  so  intensely,  for  the  sailor's  life  leads  natur- 
ally to  mysticism.  The  isolation  and  danger;  the 
darkness  brooding  over  the  waters;  the  night 
winds  and  stars,  the  solitude  that  recalls  the  lone- 
liness of  the  soul — all  predispose  to  belief;  the 
endless,  restless  plain  of  water  suggests  infinity  like 
the  star-sown  sky. 

Jack  would  have  loved  to  talk  to  Margaret 
as  he  had  never  talked  to  anyone  about  every- 
thing that  moved  him.  The  depths  in  him  longed 
for  her,  felt  sympathy  in  her.     It  was  not  to  be. 

367 


Great  Days 

The  pain  in  him  grew.  He  went  on  listening  to 
his  sister's  projects  of  a  new  drawing-room  and 
how  she  intended  to  get  a  coachman  and  put  him 
in  livery — "the  Carrol  livery,  you  know,"  she 
said,  "green  and  silver,  with  our  crest  on  the 
buttons.  .  .  ." 

As  inaction  was  impossible  to  him  Jack  began 
to  get  the  brigantine  in  order  for  a  smuggling 
cruise.  He  wanted  to  please  his  father,  and  the 
old  man  came  on  board  to  him  two  or  three  times 
suggesting  this  or  that  improvement. 

Gosport  had  made  up  the  crew  again  to  its  full 
complement,  though  he  could  always  draw  on  the 
Dolphin  and  Mary  for  ten  or  a  dozen  extra  men. 
A  born  fighting  man,  he  was  full  of  a  new  idea. 

"Give  Chips  an  order,"  he  said  to  Jack,  "for 
another  brigantine  like  this  and  let  me  fit  her  out 
with  another  sixty-pound  gun  and  we're  a  match 
for  any  Frenchman  afloat." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  cried  Jack.  "What 
could  you  do  to  a  three-decker?" 

"Leave  all  that  to  me,"  rephed  Gosport.  "A 
ship  should  be  a  gun  carriage  and  nothing  more. 
A  wasp,  by  God,"  he  went  on,  "that's  the  name 
for  them;  let's  call  them  the  Wasp  and  the  Bee 
and  we'll  buzz  and  sting  to  some  purpose  you'll 


see." 


368 


Great  Days 

Jack  was  astonished  to  find  that  his  father  was 
in  favour  of  the  idea,  and  as  soon  as  they  left 
the  ship  he  insisted  on  going  to  Chips'  yard. 

"Why  get  another  ship?"  said  Jack.  "I  don't 
know  that  I  shall  fight  yet." 

"You  ought  to  have  your  commission  first," 
said  his  father,  "but  that  may  come  any  day,  and 
a  vessel  can't  be  built  under  some  months.  I 
should  like  to  see  you  a  captain  in  the  King's  Navy 
before  I  die,  and  stranger  things  have  happened, 
mind  you,"  said  the  old  man,  "at  any  rate  there 
is  nothing  to  lose  over  another  brigantine  like 
that;  we  can  always  sell  her  for  more  than  the 
price  we  pay  Chips." 

In  spite  of  Jack's  reluctance,  the  order  was 
given  that  very  day  and  Chips  declared  that  the 
Wasp  should  be  better  than  the  Bee  in  every 
particular. 

From  this  time  on  Jack  saw  a  good  deal  of  his 
father.  The  old  man  was  continually  in  Chips' 
yard  or  on  the  brigantine,  and  one  day  in  the  yard 
he  got  in  a  draught,  caught  a  very  bad  cold  and 
was  laid  up  with  lumbago.  In  spite  of  attention 
and  good  nursing  the  little  weakness  would  not 
be  shaken  off.  The  old  man  seemed  to  get  worse 
and  Jack  began  to  grow  anxious  about  him. 
There  was  a  little  fever,  the  barber-surgeon  said, 

369 


Great  Days 

but  nothing  particular.  In  a  few  days,  however, 
he  began  to  mend  rapidly,  but  he  seemed  a  little 
shaken.  It  was  his  sister  who  made  Jack  aware 
of  the  fact.  She  came  to  him  one  day  and  begged 
him  to  speak  to  the  father. 

The  old  man  was  going  to  a  little  Methodist 
chapel,  it  appeared,  on  Sundays  and  had  given  up 
the  church,  and  Emily,  of  course,  thought  he 
should  come  to  church  and  sit  under  her  husband 
in  what  she  called  "the  proper  church." 

Jack  wondered  vaguely  whether  that  was  the 
chapel  he  remembered  going  to  with  his  father  in 
his  childhood  and  one  night  in  the  parlour  after 
dinner  he  asked  the  old  man  why  he  went  to 
chapel. 

"I've  always  belonged  to  it,"  he  repHed. 

"Do  you  believe  in  the  gospel?"  cried  Jack,  for 
he  had  never  seen  in  his  father's  conduct  any 
reference  whatever  to  religious  scruples, 

"I  s'pose  I  do,"  replied  his  father  simply.  "I 
don't  hurt  you  by  going  to  chapel,  do  I?" 

"Of  course  not,"  Jack  explained.  "Emily 
thinks  you  should  go  to  church  because  her  hus- 
band's father  is  a  vicar  and  her  husband  is  his 
curate.  But  of  course  you  have  a  right  to  go 
wherever  you  want  to  go." 

"I  guessed  it  was  something  like  that,"  said  the 

370 


Great  Days 

old  man.  "You  see  I  never  believed  in  the  church, 
never  cared  for  It  much;  It's  too  like  this  world, 
the  best  seats  In  It  for  the  best  people,  music  and 
singing,  painted  windows,  silks  and  satins.  I 
like  my  bare  chapel  and  the  plain  wooden  pews 
free  to  all.  .  .  . 

"In  the  church  they  talk  a  lot  about  the  God 
of  Love,  because  their  bellies  are  full,  and  they 
want  to  be  happy;  In  the  chapel  they  tell  the 
truth;  they  know  'the  punishment  of  sin  Is  death.' 
.  .  .  *God  has  made  hellfire  for  ever,  for  those 
who  fall  or  do  wrong  or  are  weak.'  That's  the 
God  I've  known  all  my  life  In  the  world.  He 
gives  everything  to  the  strong  and  cunning  and 
greedy  and  cautious;  why?  Because  he  loves 
'em;  they're  his  chosen  people,  the  Jews  first  and 
the  English  afterwards;  greedy,  strong  and  hard 
like  him.   .   .  . 

"I  never  was  afraid  of  a  man  much,  but  I'm 
often  afraid  of  God.  He  can  get  you  when  you 
least  expect  it,  though,  on  the  whole,  he's  been 
good  to  me.   .  .   . 

"Sometimes  I  wonder  whether  God  ever  knew 
a  good  woman;  Jesus,  you  know,  had  a  far  better 
heart  than  God  has.  .  .  ." 

Jack  looked  at  him  In  absolute  amazement. 
The  old  man's  God  was  like  himself,  made  In  his 

371 


Great  Days 

own  image,  but  larger  and  darker  as  our  shadow 
is  larger  and  darker  than  we  are.  Was  the  old 
man  frightened  of  his  own  shadow?  Did  the 
old  wolf  tremble  in  fear  at  his  own  shade  and 
howl  in  dread  to  the  moon,  uneasy  through  the 
fellowship  of  his  dark  companion? 

Jack  was  filled  with  compassion: 

"Don't  you  see,  father,"  he  cried,  "that  love  is 
stronger  than  hatred,  joy  stronger  than  fear? 
Love  is  by  far  the  strongest  influence  in  the  world; 
my  mother  was  really  stronger  than  you  are." 

"Ha!  Ha  !"  crowed  the  old  man  laughing.  "I 
could  always  make  her  do  whatever  I  liked." 

"Yes,"  said  Jack,  "but  you  loved  her,  and  you 
can't  do  things  now  that  would  hurt  her." 

"That's  true,"  said  the  old  man  groping,  and 
his  hands  sought  the  table  again  and  began  the 
old  tattoo  which  Jack  remembered  so  well. 
"That's  true,  but  as  we  get  old  our  childhood 
comes  nearer  and  nearer  to  us,  and  my  childhood 
was  all  darkness  and  hunger  and  fear." 

Shaken  to  the  soul  with  pity.  Jack  could  only 
take  the  thin,  dry  hands  in  his  and  hold  them 
fast.  .  .  . 


372 


CHAPTER  IV 

FOR  love  of  adventure  and  lack  of  anything 
better  to  do,  Jack  took  his  father's  advice 
and  went  smuggling.  He  sailed  first  to  Bordeaux, 
but  having  learnt  from  a  French  fisherman  on 
the  coast  that  the  hatred  of  the  English  had  grown 
to  such  an  extent  it  would  be  impossible  even  to 
enter  the  river  without  being  fired  on  by  the 
forts,  he  made  his  way  back  again  to  Wimereux 
and  bought  what  wines  and  spirits  he  could  find 
there  at  the  prices  current. 

He  really  enjoyed  cruising  in  the  brigantine; 
her  speed  and  seaworthiness  pleased  the  sailor  in 
him  at  every  moment,  and  the  smuggler's  camp 
round  Wimereux  attracted  him  as  fresh  vigorous 
life  always  attracts.  It  interested  him  to  notice 
that  the  racial  difiference  or  rather  the  difference 
of  language  separated  the  French  and  English 
even  when  they  were  always  rubbing  shoulders 
in  a  common  pursuit  and  common  danger.  He 
saw,  too,  that  the  traffic  in  a  forbidden  trade 
made  pariahs  of  men  first  and  then  degraded  them. 

373 


Great  Days 

Most  men  who  break  a  law,  though  merely  a 
law  of  convention,  are  ripe  a  month  later  to  break 
any  and  every  law,  however  reasonable  and  just. 

Jack  could  not  help  noticing  the  steps  by  v/hich 
a  hierarchy  establishes  itself  in  every  community, 
even  among  outlaws.  In  this  armed  camp  the 
boldest  spirits  ruled.  In  nearly  every  drinking 
den  on  the  beach  quarrels  were  of  hourly  occur- 
rence and  were  often  pursued  to  fatal  issues,  and 
the  perpetual  danger  made  the  life  very  vivid  and 
interesting.  For  this  reason  Jack  spent  a  good 
deal  of  time  at  Pin's  and  often  let  Gosport  and 
Riding  go  backwards  and  forwards  to  Hurstpoint 
without  him. 

One  morning  he  was  told  that  someone  wanted 
to  see  him,  and  to  his  astonishment  Colonel 
Caressa  came  in. 

Jack  went  to  him  with  both  hands  outstretched, 
but  with  fear  at  his  heart:  "What  is  it?"  he 
cried. 

*'Suzanne  is  dead,"  replied  Caressa  simply. 

^'Dead,"  cried  Jack.     "How?  Why?" 

"She  died  in  childbirth,"  said  Caressa.  "Sauvan 
did  his  best;  we  all  did  our  best,  but  things  went 
badly.  The  child  died  next  day.  Suzanne  asked 
me  to  see  you  to  give  you  a  few  words  she  had 
written  three  or  four  days  before  the  end,  and  I 

374 


Great  Days 

said  I  would  give  the  letter  to  you  myself.     Here 
it  is." 

Jack  opened  it  and  read: 

Je  vais  mourir  Jack;  je  le  sens,  je  le  sais. 
On  a  de  ces  pressentiments  qui  ne  trompent 
guere.  J'aurais  voulu  mourir  dans  tes  bras 
mais  tu  n'aurais  pas  le  temps  de  venir:  je 
serai  seule.     Ah,  que  c'est  affreux  d'etre  seule. 

Tu  laisseras  bebe  au  petit  pere,  n'est-ce-pas  .f" 
elle  le  consolera. 

Te  te  donne  mille  gros  baisers,  mon  Jack 
bien-aime.  Oh,  que  je  voudrais  te  voir  encore 
une  fois,  une  seule  fois ! 

Ca  m'ennuie  tant  de  mourir. 

Ta  petite  Suzanne  qui  t'aime. 

Tears  poured  from  Jack's  eyes  as  he  read; 
the  pity  of  it,  the  forethought,  the  childish  ex- 
pressions wrung  his  heart.  He  felt  guilty,  too; 
full  of  remorse,  he  might  have  made  her  so  much 
happier. 

In  silence  he  handed  the  letter  to  Caressa  and 
the  Colonel  read  it  and  handed  it  back  again  with 
quivering  face. 

"Do  you  wish  to  keep  the  child?"  asked  Jack. 

Caressa  nodded:    "If  you  would  let  me.   .   .  ." 

"The  house  seems  empty  now.  You  see 
Suzanne  and  you  were  the  only  persons  I've  cared 
for."     Jack's  heart  went  out  to  the  man. 

"Of  course  you  shall  keep  the  child.    I  want  to 

375 


Great  Days 

do  whatever  Suzanne  wished,  but  now  and  then 
you  will  let  me  come  to  see  you  both,  won't  you?" 

"You'll  always  be  welcome  where  I  am,"  said 
Caressa  seriously.  "You  know  that,  but  you  won't 
be  able  to  come  to  Cherbourg  for  some  time; 
they  all  hate  the  English  now,  'perfide  Albion/ 
you  know,"  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  depre- 
catingly. 

The  little  Colonel  showed  no  desire  to  hurry 
back  to  the  prison;  he  had  always  liked  Jack  in- 
tensely and  now  he  seemed  to  want  him  more  than 
ever  and  Jack  felt  the  same  pull.  The  two  soon 
settled  down  almost  like  father  and  son  to  a  life 
in  common. 

At  first  they  talked  of  old  times,  and  Jack 
heard  all  the  news  of  Sauvan,  Chichet  and  of 
Suzanne's  illness,  but  gradually  the  world  about 
them  drew  them  irresistibly. 

If  the  wild  hot  life  of  the  camp  had  interested 
Jack,  it  interested  the  little  fighting  Colonel  ten 
times  as  keenly.  He  was  at  his  best  in  a  row 
and  his  position  and  high  courage  quickly  gave 
him  a  unique  place  among  the  French  smugglers. 

He  became  a  sort  of  arbiter  in  all  the  quarrels 
that  sprang  up  and  soon  he  was  as  interested  in 
the  camp  and  its  passions  as  if  he  had  been  a 
smuggler  himself. 

S76 


Great  Days 

The  quarrels  among  the  smugglers  which  at 
first  had  been  sporadic  and  individual  had  grad- 
ually become  international,  and  now  involved 
whole  groups.  Pin's  house  was  regarded  as  the 
English  headquarters,  mainly  because  it  had  been 
frequented  for  years  by  Jack,  Rider,  Gosport  and 
the  others  from  Hurstpoint,  and  before  Caressa's 
arrival  Jack  had  been  called  out  more  than  once 
at  night  to  put  an  end  to  some  free  fight  which 
had  arisen  apparently  without  cause.  The  English 
sailors,  Jack  had  to  admit,  were  usually  the 
aggressors;  their  quarrels  were  mere  fist  fights 
and  comparatively  harmless;  the  Frenchmen  on 
the  other  hand,  did  not  understand  fisticuffs;  they 
used  knives,  and  holding  together  more  closely 
often  handled  the  English  severely.  Again  and 
again  Rider  and  Jack  had  proposed  a  sort  of 
international  Court  to  settle  all  differences,  but 
the  sailors  of  both  nations  were  too  newly  accus- 
tomed to  freedom  to  submit  to  any  form  of 
authority. 

Caressa  had  been  living  with  Jack  a  month  or 
two  when  a  row  broke  out  in  one  of  the  low 
drinking-dens  almost  at  the  water's  edge.  It 
began,  as  usual,  with  a  quarrel  over  a  girl,  and 
the  English  sailor  tried  to  end  it  by  knocking  his 
French   rival  down.      In   a  moment  the   French 

377 


Great  Days 

sailors  in  the  place  had  drawn  their  knives,  and 
the  fight  became  serious.  In  five  minutes  the 
handful  of  English  were  driven  out  of  the  cafe 
pell  mell  and  immediately  ran  about  collecting 
new  partisans.  The  fight  was  renewed  on  a  larger 
scale,  and  the  English  sailors,  hopelessly  in  the 
minority,  were  chased  up  the  hill-side  to  Pin's. 
Jack  came  downstairs  to  stop  the  tumult  and 
pacify  the  combatants,  but  the  blood  of  the 
Frenchmen  was  up,  and  the  certainty  of  victory 
made  them  aggressive,  and  before  he  knew  how 
it  came  about  Jack  was  hurled  into  the  cafe  with 
a  long  knife  sticking  in  his  shoulder. 

Once  inside  the  room,  however,  which  could 
only  be  entered  from  the  outside  by  the  one  door, 
and  so  put  the  minority  to  a  certain  extent  on  an 
equality  with  the  invaders,  the  English  sailors 
took  up  chairs,  tore  off  the  table-legs,  and  stood 
to  it  stoutly.  Again  and  again  the  French  were 
thrust  out,  and  the  fight  was  raging  hotly  when 
Caressa  rushed  into  the  room,  and  whipping  out 
his  sword  posted  himself  at  the  door  and  soon 
brought  his  compatriots  to  reason. 

Next  morning  the  little  Colonel  went  about 
among  the  French  sailors  and  induced  them  to 
choose  a  committee  who  would  meet  a  committee 
of  Englishmen  and  lay  down  rules  for  the  preser- 

378 


Great  Days 

vation  of  order  and  good  fellowship.  Before 
Jack's  slight  wound  was  healed  the  joint  com- 
mittee had  been  established  and  was  working 
satisfactorily.  The  quarrels  at  once  became 
milder,  partly  because  both  parties  could  hope 
for  immediate,  if  rough  justice,  and  partly  be- 
cause the  whole  camp  about  this  time  began  to 
be  held  together  by  pressure  from  the  outside. 

One  morning  after  Jack  had  recovered  from 
the  dig  in  the  shoulder  the  Colonel  began : 

"Do  you  know  what's  taking  place  on  the 
height  yonder?" 

"No,"  replied  Jack,  "I'm  not  much  interested 
in  what  goes  on  outside  the  camp." 

"Bonaparte,"  said  Caressa,  "is  forming  a  place 
d'  amies  there  for  the  invasion  of  England." 

"I've  noticed  a  good  many  soldiers  about," 
Jack  admitted,  "but  they  never  bother  us  and  we 
don't  interfere  with  them." 

"But  now  Bonaparte's  coming  himself,"  the  old 
man  insisted,  "things  will  begin  to  move.  There'll 
be  a  hundred  thousand  men  there  very  soon." 

"But  how  does  he  propose  to  get  a  hundred 
thousand  men  across  to  England?"  asked  Jack. 

"He's  going  to  collect  a  fleet  of  flat-bottomed 
boats  I  understand,"  said  the  little  Colonel,  "here 
at  Boulogne   and  at  Wimereux,   and  under  the 

379 


Great  Days 

lee  of  Cape  Grlsnez;  he'll  find  a  way  across,  never 
fear." 

Jack  smiled;  the  Colonel's  credulous  belief  in 
his  hero  no  longer  touched  him  as  it  had  done 
before  he  heard  Mr.  Fox's  estimate  of  the  First 
Consul.  Jack  no  longer  believed  in  Bonaparte's 
invincibility. 

Together  they  walked  up  the  hill  outside  the 
limit  of  the  fishing  village  and  on  to  the  ridge 
that  stretches  away  to  Boulogne.  Jack  was 
astounded  to  find  men  in  every  direction  labouring 
with  feverish  earnestness.  Outside  the  limits  of 
the  tented  camp  which  was  like  a  bee-hive  abuzz 
with  workers,  the  Boulonnais  had  already  begun 
to  put  up  wooden  shops,  and  at  every  bend  in 
any  of  the  three  or  four  roads  that  converged  on 
the  high  plateau  there  were  already  wooden  cafes 
filled  with  soldiers.  Here,  they  came  upon  a 
whole  regiment  of  sapeurs  widening  and  improv- 
ing the  road;  there,  another  company  was  making 
a  bridge;  a  little  further  on  they  saw  a  knot  of 
engineer  officers,  and  to  the  left  in  a  little  hollow 
the  white  tents  of  ten  or  fifteen  thousand  soldiers 
who  had  already  taken  up  their  quarters. 

"You  see?"  cried  Caressa. 

Impressed  in  spite  of  himself  Jack  replied 
simply,  "I  see  everything  but  the  wings." 

380 


Great  Days 

**He'll  provide  the  wings,"  crowed  Caressa, 
"you'll  soon  see.  He  has  already  overcome  all 
the  difficulties  in  his  head." 

Jack  shrugged  his  shoulders;  discussion  even 
was  impossible. 

After  Caressa  had  gone  back  to  Cherbourg  Jack 
saw  that  some  of  his  predictions  at  least  were  in 
a  fair  way  to  be  realised.  The  little  harbour  was 
gradually  taken  possession  of  by  French  sailors 
and  soldiers;  flat-bottomed  boats,  large  and  small, 
arrived  in  scores;  the  camp  on  the  heights  grew 
almost  as  quickly  as  the  days  lengthened,  and 
at  length  Jack  felt  obliged  to  return  to  Hurst- 
point  to  see  how  his  countrymen  intended  to  meet 
the  threatened  invasion. 

He  found  England  aflame  with  warUke  ardour; 
volunteers  had  come  together  in  crowds ;  over  two 
hundred  thousand  of  them  had  already  been  sup- 
phed  with  arms,  and  he  felt  sure  that  volunteers 
who  knew  the  country  and  were  helped  by  the 
hedged  and  narrow  English  roads  could  put  up  a 
desperate  resistance.  But  England  set  her  chief 
trust  in  her  navy,  and  in  this  showed  her  good 
sense.  The  strait  between  the  two  countries  was 
patrolled  by  British  frigates,  and  British  men-o'- 
war  were  never  far  off. 

It  would  be  an  extremely  hazardous,  an  almost 

381 


Great  Days 

impossible  enterprise  Jack  saw  to  attempt  an  in- 
vasion so  long  as  the  British  held  command  of 
the  sea. 

A  private  disappointment  was  more  important 
to  him  than  the  impending  invasion.  He  learned 
from  his  sister  that  Sir  George  Barron  was  dead 
and  that  Lady  Barron,  out  of  dislike  of  The 
Court,  had  gone  up  to  London,  taking  Margaret 
with  her. 

"She  knows  Suzanne's  dead,"  said  his  sister. 
"Riding  told  us  months  ago  when  she  happened 
to  be  here.    Riding  is  devoted  to  you,"  she  added. 

His  father  and  Gosport  both  tried  to  inter- 
est Jack  in  the  building  of  the  new  brigantine, 
the  Wasp.  They  were  at  the  yard  every  day 
and  they  hoped  to  launch  the  little  craft  before 
the  end  of  the  summer. 

Brandy  and  French  wine  were  once  more  going 
up  in  price  by  leaps  and  bounds  and  Jack  crossed 
again  to  Wimereux  to  arrange  for  a  large  cargo. 
He  found  that  in  the  few  weeks  of  his  absence 
the  preparations  for  invasion  had  made  ex- 
traordinary progress.  Every  day  now  regiments 
were  being  practised  in  embarking  on  the  great 
flat-bottomed  boats  which  were  then  rowed  out 
to  sea;  when  they  returned,  the  soldiers  were 
practised  in  disembarking  with  the  utmost  rapidity. 

382 


Great  Days 

The  way  the  artillerymen  got  their  heavy  guns 
on  board  and  back  again  excited  Jack's  admira- 
tion. Every  engineering  detail  had  evidently 
been  studied  with  the  greatest  care,  and  sailors 
and  soldiers  alike  were  excellent;  a  spirit  of  energy 
and  resolution  reigned  on  all  sides  and  the  prac- 
tice seemed  to  be  taken  as  seriously  as  men  usually 
take  warfare. 

Against  his  will  Jack  was  forced  again  and 
again  to  realise  that  the  spirit  of  the  whole  thing 
was  due  to  the  presence  of  the  leader.  As  soon 
as  Bonaparte  returned  to  Paris  for  any  reason  the 
preparations  slacked  off;  men  appeared  to  lose 
their  keenness;  when  he  returned  again,  every- 
thing was  at  once  keyed  up  to  concert  pitch.  In 
spite  of  himself  Jack  became  interested.  The 
military  camp  had  now  grown  to  such  dimensions 
that  everything  else  was  swallowed  up  as  in  some 
huge  maelstrom.  In  the  first  days  of  July  there 
were  already  a  hundred  thousand  men  encamped 
on  the  heights  and  fleets  on  fleets  of  every  de- 
scription of  gunboats  and  shallow  craft  filled  every 
harbour  and  inlet  from  Cape  Grisnez  to  far  south 
of  Boulogne. 

One  morning  an  order  was  given  at  about  six 
o'clock,  and  before  seven  over  twenty-five  thou- 
sand men  had  been  embarked,  almost  without  a 

383 


Great  Days 

hitch,  and  twenty-five  thousand  more  were  parked 
about  the  port  waiting  for  their  turn,  while  the 
height  behind  was  like  a  flower  bed  with  tens  of 
thousands  of  soldiers  in  varied  uniforms. 

Everyone  turned  out  to  witness  the  spectacle; 
suddenly  Jack  noticed  a  knot  of  officers  on  the 
height  overlooking  the  scene.  They  were  not  half 
a  mile  away,  and  they  all  formed  a  background 
to  the  one  figure  who  sat  on  his  horse  looking 
down  on  the  brilliant  show.  '' Bonaparte!  Bona- 
parte!" 

The  word  flew  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  the 
cheering  that  began  on  the  heights  about  him 
spread  down  in  wider  and  wider  volume  till  it 
was  taken  up  by  the  thousands  in  the  harbour 
and  echoed  and  re-echoed  by  those  already  in  the 
boats:  "Vive  Bonaparte!  Vive  le  Premier  Con- 
sul!" 

As  Jack  turned  and  followed  the  cheers  to  the 
water  he  saw  in  the  offing  some  four  or  five  miles 
away  an  English  frigate  under  easy  sail ;  he  smiled 
at  the  sight  with  a  certain  pride.  .  .  . 

A  few  evenings  later  he  was  sitting  in  the  Inn 
when  a  couple  of  the  French  committee  came  in 
accompanied  by  a  general. 

"Are  you  English?"  the  officer  asked  Jack. 

384; 


Great  Days 

"Yes,"  said  Jack,  astonished  to  hear  himself 
addressed  In  his  own  tongue. 

"A  sailor  too?"  the  general  questioned  further. 

"Yes,"  replied  Jack,  still  In  wonderment. 

"I  want  you  to  come  with  our  two  friends  here," 
the  officer  went  on  In  French,  "to  headquarters 
at  Boulogne  this  evening.  General  Bonaparte 
wishes  to  see  you  after  dinner.  Is  there  anyone 
else  we  should  have  with  us?"  he  asked  In  French, 
addressing  the  two  members  of  the  French  com- 
mittee— Lacloche  and  Gaudln. 

"No,"  said  Lacloche,  who  was  a  Norman.  "I 
think  we  three  can  tell  the  First  Consul  anything 
he  wants  to  know,  especially  Monsieur  Morgan," 
he  added,  "for  he  knows  France  as  well  as  Eng- 
land." 

Jack's  appearance  seemed  to  have  impressed 
the  officer  a  little,  for  he  now  Introduced  himself. 

"My  name's  de  VInzel,"  he  said  shortly.  "I'm 
a  Major  General;  because  I  know  English  pretty 
well  the  First  Consul  sent  me  to  pick  out  the  best 
men  among  the  smugglers  to  give  him  some  in- 
formation. Of  course,"  he  added  in  English,  "If 
you  objected  to  be  questioned  It  might  be  possible 
to  get  someone  else  in  your  place." 

"I  don't  object,"  replied  Jack. 

"It   will    be    an    interesting   experience,    eh?" 

385 


Great  Days 

probed  the  General,  looking  at  him.    Jack  flushed, 
feeling  himself  divined. 

He  began  in  turn  to  study  the  General;  de 
Vinzel  was  evidently  an  interesting  personality,  a 
man  about  middle  height,  hardly  more  than  thirty 
years  of  age,  with  fine  steadfast  brown  eyes  and 
peculiarly  well-cut  squarish  face.  The  lines  of 
the  forehead  were  square  and  the  same  lines  came 
on  down,  only  getting  a  little  slighter  to  the  jaw. 
An  interesting,  handsome  man,  Jack  felt,  moved 
in  spite  of  himself  by  the  quiet  meditative  regard 
and  courteous  reserved  manner. 

"Why  did  you  think  I  might  object?"  asked 
Jack  after  a  pause. 

The  question  seemed  to  embarrass  the  General 
a  little. 

"Out  of  patriotism,"  he  replied  at  length,  "you 
might  hesitate  to  give  Information  to  an  enemy  of 
your  country."  There  was  an  implied  reproof  in 
the  words  which  annoyed  Jack. 

"Who  could  force  me  to  give  such  informa- 
tion unless  I  wished  to?"  asked  Jack. 

"General  Bonaparte  usually  gets  what  he 
wants,"  replied  de  Vinzel.  'He  has  many  means," 
he  added  in  a  curious  detached  way,  almost  as  if 
warning  his  companion. 

"You  don't  like  him,"  said  Jack,  quickly  draw- 

386 


Great  Days 

ing  the  inference  that  the  man's  cool  tone  amid 
the  general  hero-worship  showed  rooted  dislike. 

"I  both  admire  and  like  him,"  replied  de 
Vinzel  shortly  as  if  he  resented  the  other's  frank- 
ness. **But  let  us  dine  somewhere,"  he  went  on 
in  a  more  friendly  manner,  "and  we  shall  perhaps 
come  through  words  to  feelings  and  closer  ac- 
quaintance." 

They  dined  together,  but  both  were  conscious 
of  a  wall  of  separation  between  them. 

Jack  was  intent  on  finding  out  what  de  Vinzel 
thought  of  Bonaparte;  and  de  Vinzel  seemed 
almost  as  eager  to  discover  what  was  going  on  in 
England.  But  in  spite  of  the  guarded  attitude 
both  men  preserved  they  came  to  feel  a  certain  in- 
tellectual sympathy  for  each  other  before  the  din- 
ner was  over. 

About  a  quarter  past  seven  de  Vinzel  got  Jack 
and  the  two  French  sailors  into  a  carriage  and 
started  for  the  French  headquarters  in  the  old 
town. 

As  they  drove  through  the  streets  Jack  was 
struck  by  the  discipline  and  order  that  reigned 
among  the  tens  of  thousands  of  soldiers  who  were 
lodged  in  and  near  the  town.  He  was  astonished, 
too,  at  the  Royal  state  with  which  the  general-in- 
chief  was  surrounded.     Chamberlains  succeeded 

S87 


Great  Days 

officers  in  the  ante-chambers;  and  the  door  of  the 
room  In  which  they  were  finally  asked  to  wait  was 
guarded  by  two  ushers  in  gorgeous  livery. 

In  ten  minutes  de  Vinzel  was  sent  for,  and  five 
minutes  later  he  returned,  and  with  the  words 
"The  General  will  see  you  at  once"  led  the  way 
to  the  door. 

In  spite  of  himself  Jack  was  considerably  af- 
fected by  the  glittering  uniforms,  the  formal  cere- 
mony, the  deference  shown  to  the  great  man.  As 
he  entered  the  room  his  heart  beat  quickly;  he 
was  excited,  eager  to  see  the  man  of  whom  all 
Europe  was  talking:  he  had  only  time  to  notice 
that  the  room  was  large,  high  and  brilliantly 
lighted,  when  a  little  thin  man,  who  had  been 
walking  up  and  down,  turned  and  came  quickly 
toward  them.  At  first  Jack  saw  nothing  but  a  face 
which  looked  as  if  it  had  been  carved  in  old  ivory 
and  imperious,  enigmatic  eyes.  Bonaparte  stopped 
before  them  while  de  Vinzel  bowed: 

"Voici,  les  hommes,  mon  General." 

Jack  had  time  to  have  a  good  look  at  him,  for 
the  First  Consul  was  intent  on  examining  first  La- 
cloche  and  then  Gaudin.  Jack  was  conscious  from 
their  attitudes,  though  he  didn't  look  at  them, 
that  both  the  sailors  were  over-awed  almost  to 
stupidity;  but  he  had  eyes  only  for  Bonaparte. 

388 


Great  Days 

He  was  struck  at  once  by  the  high,  challenging 
nose,  which  in  profile  was  much  more  prominent 
than  he  had  imagined  from  print  or  caricature, 
and  the  strong,  hard  jaw  and  chin.  As  Bonaparte 
turned  his  eyes  on  him  Jack  saw  that  his  face  was 
finely  balanced;  the  forehead  notably  high  and 
broad,  owing  partly  to  premature  baldness. 
When  their  glances  met  Jack  was  annoyed  to  find 
that  he  had  need  of  some  resolution  to  endure 
Bonaparte's  hawklike  gaze.  Almost  immediately 
the  general  turned  from  him  with  impatient  haste : 

"What  have  you  to  tell  me?"  he  asked,  curtly, 
addressing  Lacloche.  "The  matter's  simple;  here 
an  army  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men  with 
four  thousand  boats,  there  a  strait  seven  leagues 
wide;  how  long  will  it  take  to  get  across  given 
calm  weather?" 

Big  Lacloche  turned  his  cap  in  his  hand. 

"Mais  Monseigneur — "  he  stammered:  "gela 
depend — " 

"De  quoi?"  snapped  Bonaparte. 

"Du  temps,"  he  blurted  out. 

"Imbecile,"  cried  Bonaparte,  "I  supposed  'calm 
weather.'  " 

"And  you?"  he  demanded,  shortly,  addressing 
Gaudin;    Gaudin  looked  at  Lacloche  and  flushed 

389 


Great  Days 

brick-red.     It  was  plain  that  neither  of  them  had 
any  wits  to  spare. 

"Coglioni,"  barked  Bonaparte  in  his  native  Ital- 
ian, turning  from  them  contemptuously. 

"To  look  at  you,  one  would  think  you  had 
wits,"  he  added,  addressing  Jack,  sharply.  "Can 
you   answer  me?" 

"Eight  to  ten  hours,"  replied  Jack,  "under  the 
most  favourable  conditions." 

"Ha!"  cried  Bonaparte,  interested  at  once, 
"those  conditions  occur  once  a  week  I'm  told." 

"Not  nearly  so  often,"  Jack  replied.  "The  sea 
must  be  quiet  for  the  overloaded,  flat-bottomed 
boats,  and  there  must  be  a  gentle  breeze  from  the 
East,  or  you  wouldn't  get  speed  enough  to  carry 
them  across  the  tide." 

"Tide?"  exclaimed  Bonaparte,  "has  that  to  be 
taken  into  account,  as  well  as  the  wind?" 

"Certainly,"  replied  Jack,  "you  must  have  at 
least  one  tide  against  you." 

Bonaparte  lifted  and  dropped  his  hands  impa- 
tiently. "God  fights  for  the  shopkeepers,"  he 
muttered. 

Again  Jack  used  the  moment  Bonaparte  spent 
in  thought,  to  note  that  he  was  very  thin,  and  his 
skin  saffron-yellow,  though  he  appeared  to  be  in 
perfect  health.     Jack  saw,  too,  that  he  himself, 

390 


Great  Days 

though  only  just  average  height,  was  at  least  three 
inches  taller  than  the  First  Consul. 

His  examination  was  interrupted  by  another 
sharp  question : 

"How  often,  in  your  opinion,  will  favourable 
conditions  occur?" 

"Perhaps  a  dozen  times  in  the  course  of  the 
summer,"  replied  Jack. 

"The  thing's  only  a  ditch,  and  with  a  pinch  of 
courage  can  be  jumped,"  exclaimed  Bonaparte, 
his  eyes  flaming. 

Jack  smiled:  "The  jumper  mustn't  be  hin- 
dered." 

For  one  moment  Bonaparte's  eyes  held  Jack's; 
then  he  turned  abruptly  to  de  Vinzel. 

"Take  those  two  away;  give  them  a  thousand 
francs  apiece :  wait  till  I  ring." 

De  Vinzel  took  Lacloche  and  Gaudin  from  the 
room,  while  Bonaparte  waited  immobile  as  stone. 
Jack  felt  that  something  decisive  was  coming,  yet 
he  couldn't  help  studying  the  man  before  him  in- 
stead of  thinking  of  his  own  position.  Bonaparte 
was  half  turned  aside.  Jack  noticed  now  that  he 
had  thrust  his  right  hand  into  his  coat  and  looked 
exactly  like  Prudhon's  famous  picture;  the  head 
bent  forward  almost  on  his  chest,  the  prone  brow, 
the  withdrawn  eyes.     He  noticed,  too,  the  First 

S91 


Great  Days 

Consul's  dress;  the  long  green  coat  buttoned  high 
on  the  chest,  with  red  collar  and  red  facings;  the 
white  waistcoat  and  white  breeches,  skin  tight, 
that  fitted  into  high,  soft  boots — boots  a  la  Saxe, 
as  they  were  called:  the  uniform  of  the  Chasseurs 
a  Cheval  of  the  Guard:  this  man  was  always  a 
soldier. 

Even  after  the  door  closed  behind  de  Vinzel, 
Bonaparte  remained  some  little  time  without 
speaking.  Slowly  he  turned  on  Jack  searching,  in- 
scrutable eyes,  and  began  in  a  quiet,  impressive 
way. 

"There's  an  English  frigate  always  in  view: 
that's  what  you  meant:  is  she  alone?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  answer,"  Jack 
replied,  as  quietly,  "but  I  suppose  you  know :  she  is 
and  she  isn't." 

"Lord  Keith  has  ships  within  call,"  inferred 
Bonaparte  quickly,  "but  his  fleet  could  be  over- 
powered; we've  a  hundred  ships  of  war  in  the 
harbour  here  already." 

"Nelson's  behind  Keith,"  said  Jack. 

"He  could  be  outwitted." 

Jack  lifted  his  brows  and  was  silent. 

"You're  an  Englishman?"  Bonaparte  darted 
the  question  at  him. 

Jack  shrugged  his  shoulders:    "I  suppose  so." 

S92 


Great  Days 

"Where  did  you  learn  French?" 
"In  your  prison  at  Cherbourg,"  Jack  answered; 
"I  married  the  niece  of   Colonel  Caressa,"   he 
added. 

"Caressa !"  cried  Bonaparte,  "I  remember  him 
well,  a  fine  soldier!  Then  you  are  half  French," 
he  went  on,  his  eyes  now  shining  on  Jaclc's,  irradi- 
ating kindness.  "Come,  come,"  he  said  familiar- 
ly, "you'll  tell  me  what  I  want  to  know,"  and  he 
came  close  to  Jack,  tapping  him  the  while  with  his 
forefinger  on  the  chest. 

"I  want  to  know,"  he  repeated,  "you  see  I  put 
my  cards  on  the  table,"  he  broke  off,  "now  I  know 
I'm  speaking  to  a  relative  of  Caressa :  I  want  to 
know  whether  it  is  possible  to  get  that  English 
frigate  and  the  Enghsh  fleet  behind  it  out  of  the 
way  for  twelve  hours  on  one  of  those  occasions 
when  you  say  the  conditions  will  be  favourable 
for  crossing?" 

"That  wouldn't  help  you,"  replied  Jack.  "You 
must  have  control  of  the  sea  or  the  risk  would  be 
too  great:  England  lends  itself  to  defence." 

"Control  of  the  sea?"  repeated  Bonaparte  as 
if  doubtful,  "none  of  my  admirals  will  promise 
me  that:  is  it  possible?" 

For  a  while  Jack  thought  without  finding  a 
way  out  of  the  difficulty,  then,  putting  himself  in 

393 


Great  Days 

Bonaparte's  place  and  endowing  himself  with  his 
power,  the  solution  of  the  problem  came  to  him: 

"Quite  possible  for  next  summer,"  he  replied, 
"but  not  at  once." 

Again  Bonaparte's  eyes  became  Inscrutable  and 
held  him. 

"You  are  a  sailor,"  he  snapped,  "and  know 
the  conditions;  you  are  sure?" 

"Quite  sure." 

"Of  course  It  Is!"  exclaimed  Bonaparte.  "I, 
too,  was  sure  it  was  possible.  I've  wanted  to  meet 
a  sailor  with  brains  for  a  long  time.  Tell  me  your 
plan?"  he  added  simply. 

"I  can't,"  said  Jack,  pulling  himself  free  from 
the  searching  eyes ;  and  the  next  moment  was  an- 
gry with  himself  for  shrinking  from  the  scrutiny. 

"I'm  Enghsh,"  he  added,  "and  I've  fought 
against  you." 

"But  you  were  treated  properly;  you  were  set 
free;  you  married  a  Frenchwoman;  you're  half 
a  Frenchman,"  cried  Bonaparte,  with  singular  ra- 
pidity. .  .   . 

Still  Jack  shook  his  head,  meeting  the  eyes  now 
fairly,  though  for  a  moment  he  had  the  sensation 
of  the  fencer  when  his  opponent  Is  about  to  lunge 
in. 

The  next  moment  the  Intent  look  vanished  from 

394 


Great  Days 

Bonaparte's  face,  the  cloud  of  thought  and  anger 
cleared  magically: 

"Why  shouldn't  you  be  French  altogether,  mon 
ami?"  he  smiled.  "I  reward  talent,  insight, 
genius  more  than  anyone  ever  rewarded  it,"  he 
added,  hastily.  "You're  a  smuggler  at  variance 
with  your  own  country,  almost  an  outlaw :  be  a 
Frenchman,  help  me  with  your  special  knowledge, 
and  I  will  do  anything  you  wish  for  you,  reward 
you  in  any  way  you  may  choose." 

Jack  stood  motionless,  but  could  hardly  help 
smiling.  England  had  refused  to  consider  him 
as  the  equal  of  the  youngest  French  officer,  Eng- 
land still  in  spite  of  Fox's  pleading  denied  him  a 
commission,  yet — 

"Come,  come,"  said  Bonaparte,  and  his  eyes 
were  kindly  and  his  voice  had  an  infinite  persua- 
siveness in  it.  "I  don't  know  the  reward  you'd 
wish;  tell  it  me;  I  am  not  a  shopkeeper  you'll  find; 
I  don't  huckster  and  misprize  rare  gifts.  Are  you 
poor?"  he  went  on  quickly. 

Jack  shook  his  head. 

Napoleon  threw  his  hands  up  In  the  same  Im- 
patient gesture. 

"Help  me;  choose  the  reward  you  please;  it 
shall  be  yours." 

Jack  remained  silent. 

395 


Great  Days 

^'Wouldn't  It  be  better,"  said  Bonaparte, 
slowly,  "for  you  to  be  a  French  admiral;  to  go 
back  to  Cherbourg  with  absolute  power,  and  re- 
organize our  Northern  fleet  than  go  on  as  an 
English  smuggler?  Think,"  he  said,  "I  left  Cor- 
sica for  France  because  the  field  was  larger,  the 
reward  higher.  Why  shouldn't  you  leave  Eng- 
land for  France  for  the  same  reason?" 

Bonaparte  believed  that  Jack  was  hesitating, 
and  at  once  tried  to  play  on  another  string. 

"England  hasn't  treated  you  over  well,"  he 
went  on,  "or  you  would  never  have  been  a  smug- 
gler. What  loyalty  do  you  owe  the  petty  shop- 
keepers who  fight  like  dogs  without  knowing  why 
they're  fighting,  who  ill-treat  all  their  best  men 
like  Fox  and  yourself,  and  prefer  preposterous 
little  lordllngs,  parasites  and  pedants  to  men  of 
original  force  and  talent?" 

Still  Jack  didn't  answer.  It  was  all  true,  he 
felt,  all  true,  and  the  classing  him  with  Fox  sent 
warm  blood  leaping  through  his  veins. 

"What  kindness  do  you  owe  those  who  Ill-treat 
you  and  underrate  you?"  the  persuasive  voice 
went  on:  "Ubi  bene  est,  ibi  patria:  That's  one 
of  the  scraps  of  Latin  that  has  stuck  In  my  mem- 
ory." 

Jack  struggled  not  to  yield :  what  was  It  Fox  had 

S96 


Great  Days 

said:     "One  doesn't  turn  against  one's  mother." 
He  shook  his  head:    "I'm  sorry " 

Bonaparte  cut  him  short. 

"Don't  make  up  your  mind  at  once,"  he  said; 
"important  decisions  need  reflection,  careful 
thought"  (his  sentences  fell  like  bullets)  :  "great 
opportunities  do  not  occur  often:  great  men  need 
great  lieutenants.  You're  sure,"  he  probed  him 
again,  "it's  possible  to  win  the  mastery  of  the  sea 
in  half  a  year?" 

Jack  nodded,  his  eyes  lighting  up:     "Sure!" 

"I  knew  it,"  cried  Napoleon,  as  if  to  himself, 
"all  things  are  possible  to  a  brain  that  knows  the 
conditions." 

"Think  it  over,"  he  went  on,  "I'm  glad  to  know 
Caressa's  son-in-law;  the  Colonel  will  have  told 
you  that  I  am  not  ungrateful,"  he  added,  smiling, 
"and  if  you  help  me  in  this,  he  shall  judge  be- 
tween us." 

Jack  realised  that  when  he  chose  this  man 
could  be  winning.  His  smile  was  full  of  kind- 
ness, his  manner  had  a  famiHar  courtesy  in  it  that 
was  fascinating. 

The  next  moment  Bonaparte  turned  to  the 
usher  who  had  entered: 

"Send  General  de  Vinzel  to  me,"  he  said, 
quietly. 

397 


Great  Days 

Before  Jack  had  time  to  think  de  Vinzel  came 
into  the  room. 

"General,"  said  Bonaparte  to  him,  "this  gen- 
tleman and  I  have  had  a  talk,  and  I  hope  to  have 
many  more  with  him.  He's  half  French,  I  find. 
Please  take  care  of  him?  See  that  he  is  well 
cared  for?" 

"Oh,  Mon  General,"  Jack  broke  in,  replying 
to  Bonaparte,  "I  am  staying  at  Pin's  cafe  at  Wi- 
mereux;  if  you  will  allow  me  to  go  back  there,  I 
shall  always  be  at  hand  if  I'm  wanted." 

"The  carriage  in  which  we  came,"  added  de 
Vinzel,  "is  still  waiting,  and  the  two  sailors  are 
ready  to  return  with  this  gentleman." 

"As  you  will,"  decided  Bonaparte,  "if  you'll 
wait  for  five  minutes,"  he  added,  smiling,  while 
waving  Jack  to  the  door,  "I  have  something  to 
say  to  the  General,  and  he  will  go  with  you." 

"Bon  soir,"  he  added,  smiling  his  dismissal, 
"bon  soir,  mon  ami,  et  au  revoir,"  and  the  inter- 
view was  over. 

Jack  went  into  the  next  room  with  his  thoughts 
and  emotions  in  a  whirl.  He  wanted  to  arrange 
them,  to  come  to  some  definite  conclusion. 

Bonaparte  was  a  great  man:  that  he  felt  cer- 
tain of.  Fox  hadn't  been  fair  to  him.  Why? 
Probably  because  Bonaparte  was  too  imperious, 

39s 


Great  Days 

too  quick;  assumed  superiority  at  once.  But  he 
had  rare  force  and  persuasiveness — the  touch  of 
familiarity  was  the  subtlest  flattery.   .  ,   . 

"Do  I  feel  the  speed  and  power  and  charm  of 
the  man  so  intensely?"  he  next  asked  himself,  "be- 
cause I'm  inferior  to  Fox?" 

Fox's  words  came  back  to  him:  "Bonaparte 
could  probably  strike  quickly  and  relentlessly." 
He  meant  perhaps  that  Bonaparte  was  effective 
because  he  was  narrow,  a  torrent  held  to  purpose 
by  stone  banks.     He  had  underrated  the  man. 

Judging  himself  and  others  in  this  way  Jack 
never  even  thought  of  the  difference  of  age  and 
its  effects.  He  had  realised  that  Fox  was  a  mas- 
ter of  words,  astonishingly  articulate.  He  could 
not  expect  to  be  the  equal  of  a  master  in  this  field 
who  had  perfected  his  gift  in  twenty  years  of  con- 
stant practice.  He  was  struck  by  Bonaparte's 
mastery  of  men  and  command  of  motives  but  he 
never  took  into  account  that  Bonaparte  had  been 
using  his  instruments  now  for  ten  years?  Jack's 
ability  showed  itself  in  weighing  such  men. 
.Though  Ee  felt  their  superior  talents  acutely,  he 
was  not  really  cast  down  by  them. 

He  knew  that  he  must  now  make  up  his  mind 
what  he  would  do;  he  felt  the  importance  of  the 
decision.    Napoleon  would  keep  his  word,  of  that 

399 


Great  Days 

there  could  be  no  doubt;  he  would  not  hesitate  to 
make  him  an  admiral  at  once,  give  him  power  to 
boot,  and  judge  him  by  his  achievements.  More 
no  one  could  want :  life  seemed  to  open  before  him 
with  unlimited  horizons;  the  scales  dropped  from 
his  eyes.  He  knew  of  a  surety  that  If  he  were  In 
command  at  Cherbourg  for  three  or  four  months, 
he  could  fit  out  a  host  of  Wasps,  a  thousand  of 
them  that  would  sweep  the  British  fleets  from  the 
sea ;  half  a  dozen  or  a  dozen  Wasps  against  each 
battleship;  every  Wasp  able  to  choose  her  own 
distance,  able  to  strike  without  being  struck  again 
— the  result  was  certain. 

The  hot  blood  poured  through  him  in  triumph : 
he  thrilled  with  joy.  It  was  the  old  story  of  the 
Armada  over  again,  three  or  four  little  English 
ships  to  one  big  Spaniard,  the  English  ships  hav- 
ing no  advantage  but  speed  and  alertness.  Every 
Spanish  giant  taken  would  be  a  triumph,  whereas 
when  a  Tittle  English  ship  went  down  no  one 
would  notice  it;  It  wouldn't  count:  victory  must 
always  be  with  the  Wasps,  Besides  the  small  ships 
make  the  best  sailors,  and  It's  the  sailors  win 
battles. 

Throbbing  with  exultation  he  realised  that  In 
mind  already  he  had  created  a  new  navy^ — an  In- 
vincible fleet  at  a  minimum  of  cost.    He  could  do 

400 


Great  Days 

all  Bonaparte  wanted,  and  more,  much  more. 
After  Bonaparte  he  would  be  the  first  man  in 
France.  He  could  make  the  French  fleet  as 
powerful  as  the  French  army.  His  thoughts  tow- 
ered; instinctively  he  turned  and  walked  reso- 
lutely to  the  door.  If  Bonaparte  had  come  to  him 
then  the  result  might  have  been  different.  But 
Bonaparte  had  many  things  to  do  and,  as  the  door 
opened,  de  Vinzel  came  in. 

"You?"  cried  Jack,  with  a  spasm  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

"At  your  service,"  said  de  Vinzel,  quietly.  "I 
have  sent  the  sailors  back,"  he  went  on,  "I  want 
to  have  a  talk  with  you — a  long  talk." 

Jack  nodded.  De  Vinzel  led  the  way  out  of  the 
room. 


401 


CHAPTER  V 

JACK  followed  de  Vinzel  almost  without 
thought  of  where  he  was  going  or  why.  He 
was  living  in  the  new  realm  of  his  own  imagining. 
Was  it  for  this  gorgeous  conception  of  a  new  fleet, 
he  wondered,  that  he  had  been  born,  just  for  this 
that  he  had  been  trained  for  years  and  years  as  a 
seaman;  for  this  that  he  had  met  Gosport  and 
given  him  the  chance  of  showing  what  could  be 
done?  How  simple  it  all  was:  it  was  the  lesson 
of  all  warfare  to  strike  without  being  struck  back, 
and  the  other  lesson  was  just  as  weighty,  that  one 
man,  one  thought  might  be  more  important  than 
a  whole  navy  and  a  hundred  thousand  trained  sea- 
men. 

Jack  was  to  learn  more  still  before  this  mem- 
orable evening  came  to  an  end. 

Following  de  Vinzel,  he  went  through  a  long 
corridor,  which  evidently  led  into  another  house. 
Suddenly  his  guide  threw  open  a  door  and  ushered 
him  into  a  pleasant,  small  room  with  many  books 
in  it  and  two  or  three  portraits. 

402 


Great  Days 

"My  quarters,"  de  Vlnzel  began,  "take  a  seat, 
won't  you?  and  let's  have  a  talk." 

Mechanically  Jack  sat  down  and  de  Vinzel 
drew  up  opposite  him. 

"General  Bonaparte  thinks  very  highly  of  you," 
said  de  Vinzel,  "he  told  me  to  say  so.  He  believes 
that  you  know  how  to  get  rid  of  the  British  fleet 
and  how  to  win  mastery  of  the  sea." 

Jack  smiled,  still  glowing. 

"It's  true,  then?"  de  Vinzel  went  on,  with  quick 
interest  lighting  up  his  face. 

Jack  nodded:  "The  certainty  came  to  me,"  he 
confessed,  "when  Bonaparte  talked  of  making  me 
a  French  admiral,  and  giving  me  command  in 
Cherbourg  over  the  Northern  French  fleet.  Till 
then  I  didn't  see  my  way.  He  told  me  to  choose 
my  own  reward,  but  a  man's  real  reward,"  he 
added,  "is  the  opportunity  to  do  big  things." 

"I  see,"  exclaimed  de  Vinzel,  "he  uses  persua- 
sive arguments." 

Jack  felt  a  certain  reproof  in  his  tone  which  he 
scarcely  understood. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked. 

"Are  big  things  always  the  best  things,  I  won- 
der? or  are  they  sometimes  bad,  and  better  left 
undone?"  replied  de  Vinzel,  quietly. 

403 


Great  Days 

"Good  or  bad,"  retorted  Jack,  "they  always 
tempt  one,  and  there's  satisfaction  In  the  doing." 

De  Vinzel's  brows  went  up  disdainfully: 

"You  don't  agree  with  me,"  cried  Jack,  "tell 
me  exactly  what  you  think,  won't  you?" 

"Many  things,"  replied  de  Vinzel,  "which  I 
hardly  know  how  to  make  plain,  and  yet  which  I 
believe  I  ought  to  lay  before  you. 

"Have  you  resolved  to  yield  to  the  persuasion, 
and  do  what  General  Bonaparte  wishes?"  he 
asked. 

Recalled  to  himself  by  the  direct  question,  Jack 
hesitated. 

"I  have  not  decided,"  he  replied,  "but  if  I  had 
the  power  for  six  months  I  could  do  big  things. 
That  tempts  me — not  the  reward,  nor  the  hon- 
ours." 

De  Vinzel  nodded:    "Yet  you  still  hesitate?" 

"I  still  hesitate,"  replied  Jack;  "it's  hard  to 
turn  against  one's  country,"  he  added,  as  if  forced 
to  explain. 

Again  de  Vinzel  nodded,  and  silence  came  upon 
the  two;  though  their  eyes  met  more  than  once. 

"I  wonder,"  said  de  Vinzel,  "if  I  talked  about 
myself  whether  you  would  understand:  I'm  going 
to  try,  If  I  don't  bore  you,"  he  added. 

404 


Great  Days 

"No,  no,"  replied  Jack,  "you  Interest  me  hugely. 
I  shall  be  glad  to  hear." 

"I'm  a  Breton,"  de  Vinzel  began,  "and  was 
brought  up  In  a  little  manor  house  on  the  coast 
by  my  mother;  trained  devoutly  as  a  Catholic, 
taught  to  love  the  church,  and  to  honour  the 
king;  surrounded  the  while  with  such  indulgent 
love  and  tenderness  as  few  men  ever  know. 
Whatever  I  am  or  whatever  I  may  become  I  owe 
to  my  mother. 

"In  spite  of  all  her  care  and  all  the  teaching," 
he  went  on,  "I  began  at  sixteen  or  seventeen  to 
think  for  myself,  and  soon  came  to  doubt  every- 
thing I  had  been  taught.  Before  the  opening  of 
the  Revolution,  already  in  1788,  I  was  a  revolu- 
tionary— a  revolutionary  at  eighteen  with  a  de- 
vout mother,  who  was  horrified  by  the  mere  no- 
tion of  the  common  people  attempting  to  speak 
before  the  clergy  and  nobles  and  king " 

After  a  pause  he  began  in  another  tone:  "I 
came  to  believe  in  my  judgment  a  little,"  he  re- 
sumed, "because  I  continually  foresaw  event  after 
event  that  afterwards  took  place.  I  knew  the 
Girondists  were  doomed  because  of  their  modera- 
tion, while  everyone  looked  upon  them  as  extrem- 
ists: I  foresaw  the  victory  of  the  Jacobins;  only 
one  mistake  I  made.    I  believed  In  MIrabeau  and 

405 


Great  Days 

Danton  as  in  Elijah  and  Elisha,  and  It  was  Robes- 
pierre and  Bonaparte  who  won,  perhaps  because 
they  desired  power  more  than  the  others. 

"For  my  mother's  sake,"  he  went  on,  "I  could 
take  no  hand  in  the  game  so  long  as  she  lived,  but 
she  died  suddenly,  when  I  was  twenty-five,  and  at 
once  I  astonished  the  cure  and  all  my  friends  by 
taking  up  arms  for  the  republic.  They  had  all  ex- 
pected that  I  would  be  a  'chouan.'  I  preferred 
to  fight  under  General  Marceau — a  great  man," 
he  went  on,  "as  great  perhaps  as  the  First  Con- 
sul!" 

"Why,  then,  did  Bonaparte  rise  above  all  the 
others?"  asked  Jack. 

"Surely  the  explanation's  simple,"  cried  de  Vin- 
zel.  "In  his  youth  he  saw  Paoli  make  himself 
master  of  Corsica;  he  fought  for  him  and  he 
fought  against  him,  and  was  beaten.  Bonaparte 
learned  from  Paoli  how  easy  it  is  for  a  General 
to  make  himself  a  despot,  and  he  set  himself  to 
follow  Paoli's  example  on  a  larger  stage." 

"That's  probably  true,"  said  Jack.  "Is  he  a 
marvellous  general?" 

"A  very  good  general,"  replied  de  Vinzel, 
quietly;  "but  hardly  more;  it  seems  to  me  a  great 
general  must  invent  something  new,  a  new  arm 
like  the  long  spears  which  Philip  and  Alexander 

406 


Great  Days 

gave  the  Macedonians,  or  a  new  formation  like 
the  Roman  legion;  but  Bonaparte  has  not  had  to 
invent  anything;  and  yet  has  conquered  every- 
where, simply  because  he  had  the  force  and  pas- 
sion of  the  revolution  behind  him.   .   .   . 

"All  nations  were  affected  by  our  declaration  of 
the  brotherhood  of  man;  'Liberty,  Equality,  and 
Fraternity'  have  carried  the  French  arms  from 
victory  to  victory.  In  Italy  our  soldiers  were  wel- 
comed everywhere,  and  even  in  the  villages  on  the 
Rhine  we  were  cheered,  but  as  soon  as  men  come 
to  see  that  Napoleon  Is  merely  fighting  for  him- 
self the  result  will  be  different." 

Jack  was  curiously  Interested;  this  man  seemed 
to  be  looking  down  on  events  from  a  height:  he 
nodded  encouragement     and  de  Vinzel  went  on: 

"I  cannot  help  believing  that  the  Right  must 
triumph :  my  pious  mother  in  me  I  suppose.  Had 
Bonaparte  contented  himself  with  organizing  the 
spirit  of  the  Revolution  how  much  greater  he 
would  have  been.  But  always  there's  the  Insane 
excess  In  him.  After  the  great  Italian  Campaign 
of  1796,  the  Insane  dream  of  an  empire  In  the 
east,  and  the  fiasco  of  Egypt.  After  his  admir- 
able work  as  First  Consul:  his  codifying  of  the 
laws:  his  foundation  of  the  splendid  University 
system,  this  insane  expedition  against  England. 

407 


Great  Days 

His  ambition  is  selfish  and  insatiate,  and  his  love 
of  risk  is  the  mark  of  the  gambler. 

"How  much  longer  will  he  last?  That's  the 
question.  I  should  despair  of  everything,  of  God 
and  good,  if  he  went  without  defeat." 

"Why  don't  you  leave  him?"  asked  Jack,  in 
amazement. 

"There  is  a  leaven  of  real  wisdom  in  him," 
replied  de  Vinzel,  "he  has  done  a  great  deal  for 
France:  these  new  trunk  roads  he's  making  are 
fine,  and  he  intends,  I  hear,  to  bring  the  forest- 
lands  under  wise  central  administration;  he's  a 
great  organiser,  and  industrial  France  needs  him: 
for  feudal  France  is  dead. 

"I  was  very  eager  to  see,"  he  went  on  after  a 
pause,  "whether  you  would  be  tempted  to  fight 
for  him.  You  will  not,  I  think.  That  means  the 
tide  is  already  turning  against  him.  Had  he  been 
unselfish  enough,"  he  added,  "he  might  have  won 
you  and  perhaps  with  you  the  mastery  of  the 
seas." 

"I  might  have  been  killed,"  said  Jack,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders,  "on  my  way  to  Cherbourg." 

"Of  course,"  cried  de  Vinzel,  "there's  room 
for  the  sceptical  argument:  there  is  no  rule  with- 
out its  exception,  water  does  not  always  reach  its 

408 


Great  Days 

level:  but  that's  the  tendency;  Right  Is  always 
clothing  itself  with  Might  as  with  a  garment.  .   .  . 

"Here  we  two  are,"  he  said,  stretching  out  his 
hands  to  Jack,  "both  of  us  in  much  the  same  diffi- 
culty: I  wishing  to  fight  for  France  and  modern 
ideas  am  engaged  under  Bonaparte,  who,  I 
am  afraid,  is  about  to  play  Emperor  and  make 
himself  a  despot.  I'm  uncertain  how  far  I  ought 
to  go  with  him.  And  you've  got  much  the  same 
trouble,  only  you  must  make  up  your  mind  at  once 
while  I  have  time." 

"It's  made  up,"  said  Jack,  "though  I  should  like 
power,  like  to  create  a  great  fleet,  I  cannot  fight 
against  England.  I  think,"  he  said,  rising,  "I  had 
better  get  back  to  Pin's." 

De  Vinzel  looked  at  him  with  cordial  liking  in 
his  eyes,  then  suddenly  he  put  his  hand  on  his 
arm  and  spoke  with  peculiar  impressiveness : 
"Further  than  Pin's,  my  friend,"  he  said. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Jack. 

"You  will  cross  to  England  to-night,"  said  de 
Vinzel,  "if  you're  wise,  immediately  I  leave  you. 
Don't  waste  a  moment.  Bonaparte  has  other 
means  of  persuasion,"  he  added,  "if  rewards 
won't  make  you  speak,  punishments  might." 

"You  don't  mean ?"  cried  Jack. 

"I  mean  he  killed  Enghien  in  cold  blood,"  re- 

409 


Great  Days 

plied  de  Vinzel;  "it's  safer  for  you,  much  safer 
to  cross  to-night." 

"I  am  to  conduct  you  to  Pin's,"  he  went  on  in 
his  ordinary  tone,  "and  see  you  in  safety  there; 
those  are  my  orders.  I  shall  not  go  an  inch  be- 
yond them.  .  .  .  Sometime  or  other  I  hope  we 
may  meet  again,"  he  added. 

The  two  walked  in  silence  up  the  long  hill: 
when  they  reached  the  top  de  Vinzel  began : 

"I  think  you  ought  to  know  what  Bonaparte 
told  me  about  you." 

"If  the  Englishman  has  a  sound  plan,"  he  said, 
"and  can  really  win  for  us  the  mastery  of  the 
sea,  he'll  do  it.  If  he  refuses,  it  is  because  he 
can't  do  it.  No  one  could  resist  the  rewards  I 
offered  him;  no  one  in  his  senses:  I  know  men." 

"Bonaparte,"  de  Vinzel  went  on,  "seems  in- 
capable of  understanding  high,  unselfish  motives 
and,  my  belief  is,"  he  added  in  his  impressive 
way,  "that  those  motives  are  certain  sooner  or 
later  to  bring  him  to  ruin." 

Jack  heard  him  with  a  sort  of  awe:  he  hadn't 
the  older  man's  certainty  of  faith;  but  he  felt  that 
what  de  Vinzel  said  was  more  than  likely  to  be 
true.  It  was  as  if  he  had  heard  a  law  formulated 
for  the  first  time  which  yet  found  an  immediate 
echo  in  his  own  soul  and  implicit  acceptance.  With 

410 


Great  Days 

thoughts  in  mind  deeper  than  words  the  two  came 
at  length  to  Pin's  and  said  "Good-night"  at  the 
door.  As  de  Vinzel  turned  to  walk  away  he  cried 
out:  "au  revoir,"  and  was  gone  into  the  darkness. 
Jack  watched  him  disappear  with  mingled  feel- 
ings of  wonder  and  sympathy.  What  an  extraor- 
dinary man.  Were  there  many  Frenchmen  so 
wise  and  clear-sighted?  Hardly.  If  such  men 
as   de  Vinzel  ever  came   to  power  war  would 

Five  minutes  later  he  was  in  the  little  harbour, 
had  roused  up  a  couple  of  fishermen,  and  with 
them  an  hour  later  had  sailed  for  Hurstpoint. 


411 


CHAPTER  VI 

ALL  the  way  across  Jack's  mind  was  at  work. 
First  he  went  over  every  detail  of  his  talk 
with  Bonaparte.  He  had  in  his  mind,  so  to  speak, 
a  series  of  photographs  of  him  which  all  coalesced 
gradually  into  one  impression, — a  carven  marble 
face,  all  lines  and  sharpest  decision,  a  challeng- 
ing, imperious  nose,  hard,  inscrutable  eyes  and 
mitigating  these  an  affectionate  human  voice — 
"mon  ami."  A  quick,  keen,  resolute  man  not 
without  many  kindly  virtues;  but  de  Vinzel  was 
right,  the  great  pull  of  the  world  was  against  him, 
which  was  after  all  another  way  of  saying  what 
Fox  had  said — that  vanity,  naked  self-esteem  was 
the  rock  on  which  Bonaparte  might  founder.  Sud- 
denly the  thought  came  into  Jack's  mind  with  a 
shock  that  Fox  was  perhaps  as  great  a  man;  true, 
he  had  petty  aristocratic  insolences  about  him 
and  prejudices  that  the  First  Consul  hadn't  got. 
Bonaparte,  Jack  felt,  was  simpler,  more  human. 
But  Fox  was  full  of  laughing  kindness,  too,  a 
rich,  bold,  generous  nature :  who  could  say  which 
was  the  greater? 

412 


Great  Days 

And  de  Vinzel?  a  sort  of  fanatic  of  the  Revo- 
lution and  of  the  Right:  a  fine  product.  De  Vin- 
zel reminded  him  in  some  ways  of  Carrol.  It 
struck  him  that  Carrol  and  Fox  v/ere  the  English 
equivalents  of  de  Vinzel  and  Bonaparte:  the 
Frenchmen  freer  of  prejudice,  more  modern  in 
spirit  and  aim;  the  Englishmen  more  whimsical: 
on  this  side  the  amateur  talents,  so  to  speak,  on 
that,  the  professional  artists  in  life.  That  was 
what  the  French  Revolution  had  done,  lifted 
France  nearer  to  the  ideal,  made  her  more  mod- 
ern than  England.  Would  she  keep  her  advan- 
tage? 

As  soon  as  they  got  well  to  the  south  of  the 
patrolling  Enghsh  frigate  they  steered  across  and 
next  night  Jack  was  landed  at  Hurstpoint.  After 
a  long  sleep  in  his  own  little  room  he  hurried 
downstairs  to  see  his  father  and  tell  him  all  about 
'  the  First  Consul.  What  would  his  father  say  to 
Bonaparte's  offer? 

After  breakfast  the  two  went  out  for  a  walk 
and  Jack  told  his  father  what  Bonaparte  had  said. 

"Why  didn't  you  take  his  offer?"  asked  the 
older  man,  stopping  in  blank  surprise. 

"1  couldn't,"  said  Jack,  "he's  fighting  now  for 
his  own  hand." 

"That's  what  you  ought  to  fight  for,"  cried  his 

413 


Great  Days 

father;  "that's  what  everyone  in  this  world 
fights  for.  If  he  had  offered  me  such  a  chance, 
wouldn't  I  have  jumped  at  it?  What's  England 
to  you?    What  has  she  ever  done  for  you?" 

"A  great  deal,"  said  Jack,  "more  than  we  can 
ever  estimate.    At  any  rate,  I  refused,"  he  added. 

"The  more  fool  you,"  said  the  old  man  drily. 
Jack  took  hold  of  his  father's  arm,  laughing 
gaily:  "You  don't  even  know,"  he  cried,  "whether 
I  could  have  done  what  Bonaparte  wanted?" 

"I  know  you  could  have  done  better  than  any- 
one he  can  get,"  replied  his  father,  stoutly,  "and 
you'd  have  had  the  reward.  I've  no  patience  with 
your  scruples." 

"Come,  come,"  Jack  replied,  "you  know  you 
always  say  I  have  too  much  of  my  mother  in  me : 
in  your  heart  that's  why  you  like  me." 

The  old  man  stopped  and  looked  at  him  quiz- 
ically  with  his  keen  grey  eyes:  "Perhaps  it  is,"  he 
said,  smiling  grimly;  "but  as  you've  made  up  your 
mind,"  he  went  on,  "I  may  give  you  something 
now  that  has  come  for  you,"  and  he  took  an  offi- 
cial letter  out  of  his  pocket  with  O.  H.  M.  S. 
printed  on  the  cover  and  another  smaller  packet 
franked. 

"Your  commission  I  expect,"  added  his  father. 

Jack  tore  it  open  and  found  that  the  old  man 

414 


Great  Days 

had  guessed  right.     It  was  his  commission  and, 
when  he  opened  the  smaller  packet,  he  found  it 
was  a  letter  from  Fox. 
It  ran: 

Dear  Sir: 

I  take  shame  to  myself  for  so  long  neglect- 
ing my  promise  to  you.  But  I  can  hardly  re- 
pent of  my  fault  as  it  brought  me  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  very  charming  woman,  who  takes 
more  interest  in  you  than  in  a  wilderness  of 
Foxes. 

Miss  Barron  has  reminded  me  of  my  promise 
to  get  you  a  commission,  and  assured  me  that 
you  deserved  it,  and  I  believe  her.  I  hope 
you  will  do  great  things  with  it,  and  change  it 
f©r  one  of  higher  rank,  very  quickly. 

The  gout  is  in  my  hands  or  I  might  write 
more. 

Your  obedient  servant, 

Charles  J.  Fox. 

"Now,"  said  Jack  to  his  father,  pocketing  the 
letter,  "let  us  get  down  to  Chips  and  see  if  the 
brigantine  is  ready.  I'm  eager  to  see,"  he  went 
on,  "whether  if  I  had  accepted  Bonaparte's  offer 
I  should  have  been  successful  or  not.  We'll  soon 
try  my  idea  against  a  French  ship." 

"The  new  brigantine  is  all  ready,"  said  his 
father,  "except  for  her  guns,  and  Gosport  is  at 
Portsmouth  getting  the  very  biggest  cannon  he 
can  find  for  both  vessels.     He's  been  gone  now 

415 


Great  Days 

over  a  month,  and  I  expect  him  back  ev^ery  day." 
When  they  got  to  the  harbour  Jack  was  de- 
lighted to  see  the  two  brigantines  floating  side  by 
side :  the  new  vessel  was  some  forty  feet  longer 
than  the  old,  with  higher  masts  and  doubtless  a 
far  larger  spread  of  canvas.  Nothing  would  do 
on  this  very  first  day  but  that  he  should  take  both 
vessels  out  for  a  cruise  and  see  which  was  the 
faster.  He  was  delighted  to  find  his  father  en- 
tering at  once  Into  the  spirit  of  the  race  with  the 
zest  of  a  young  man. 

"Let  me  have  the  little  Dolphin,"  the  old  man 
cried,  "you  take  the  new  brigantine,  the  Wasp, 
and  let  Riding  take  out  the  Bee,  and  money  on  it 
I'll  beat  you  both  round  a  forty  mile  course." 

Jack  looked  up  at  the  sky  and  then  burst  out 
laughing.  It  was  settled  summer  weather,  with  a 
light  breeze  of  only  five  or  six  knots  an  hour.  It 
v/as  very  possible  that  his  father  would  win  in 
the  small  cutter,  for  the  light  air  suited  her  better 
than  it  suited  the  larger  vessels.  The  old  man, 
too,  had  chosen  the  course  in  order  that  he  might 
start  at  least  with  an  advantage.  He  also  stipu- 
lated that  each  of  them  should  set  off  as  soon 
as  he  could,  knowing  that  that  was  pretty  sure  to 
give  him  quite  five  minutes'  start.    They  met  Rid- 

416 


Great  Days 

ing  on  the  quay,  but  his  father  wouldn't  stop  to 
discuss  anything  with  Riding. 

"Everyone  for  himself,  my  boy:  I'm  going  to 
start  as  soon  as  I  can.  You  settle  it  with  Riding 
as  you  like,"  and  in  two  minutes  he  had  got  into 
a  boat  and  was  being  pulled  off  to  the  Dolphin. 

In  a  few  seconds  Jack  told  Riding  what  had 
been  resolved  and  sent  him  off  on  board  the  Bee. 

When  he  himself  reached  the  Wasp  he  found 
that  she  was  somewhat  short-handed.  Still,  the 
score  of  sailors  that  were  on  board  were  of  a  good 
class,  and  as  soon  as  Jack  stepped  on  deck  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  Weetman,  who 
was  now  boatswain.  In  a  few  words  he  told  him 
what  was  on  foot,  and  sent  him  forward  to  get 
the  sails  set.  As  his  men  tumbled  up  the  hatchway 
Jack  saw  that  the  little  Dolphin  had  already 
slipped  her  moorings  and  hoisted  her  jib,  and 
with  her  mainsail  half  set  was  drawing  out  of  the 
harbour. 

He  grinned  with  delight  at  this  evidence  of  his 
father's  keenness. 

Riding,  too,  was  using  the  big  crew  of  the  Bee 
for  all  they  were  worth.  Before  Jack  had  got  the 
first  sail  set  he  saw  the  Bee  passing  him  under  a 
cloud  of  canvas  on  her  way  after  the  Dolphin. 
Jack  soon  realised  that  he  was  at  many  disadvan- 

417 


/ 


Great  Days 

tages.  The  ropes  were  all  new,  and  as  soon  as 
the  sails  felt  the  wind  all  the  tackle  began  to 
stretch.  Again  and  again  he  had  to  make  the 
men  tauten  up  this  shroud  and  sheet  and  take  an 
extra  pull  on  that  halyard.  But  as  soon  as  they 
were  out  of  the  harbour,  he  realised  that  the 
Wasp  was  very  fast.  The  Dolphin  had  had  quite 
ten  minutes'  start,  and  was  a  mile  away,  a  white- 
winged  bird  creeping  up  to  windward  and  already 
probably  weatherly  enough  to  round  the  first 
buoy.  Then  came  the  Bee  about  half  a  mile 
ahead,  and  last  of  all  the  Wasp. 

On  the  first  lap  the  Wasp  outsailed  the  Bee 
easily  and  came  round  the  buoy  before  her.  But 
the  little  Dolphin  had  almost  held  her  lead,  and 
was  still  perhaps  some  three-quarters  of  a  mile  in 
front.  She  had  rigged  out  a  great  square  sail, 
too,  and  was  doing  well,  even  before  the  wind. 

Jack  saw  that  his  father  was  his  only  real  an- 
tagonist. But  as  soon  as  the  Wasp  was  put  be- 
fore the  wind  she  began  to  show  her  speed.  In 
half  an  hour  she  had  overhauled  the  Dolphin  and 
then  slid  quickly  past  her  and  went  on  alone.  The 
crew  led  by  Weetman  gave  a  great  cheer,  which 
the  Dolphin's  re-echoed  with  challenge. 

Shortly  after  Jack  had  got  ahead  he  began  to 
hope  that  something  might  take  place  in  order 

418 


Great  Days 

that  his  father  might  win.  Curiously  enough 
chance  began  to  favour  the  old  man.  In  the  full 
heat  of  the  day  the  wind  dropped  to  a  mere  air 
and  the  hghter  vessel  crept  up  on  the  leader, 
foot  by  foot.  It  was  almost  a  drifting  match 
from  one  o'clock  to  four,  when  the  brigantine 
rounded  the  second  buoy,  with  the  Dolphin  a  few 
hundred  yards  behind.  Here  for  half  an  hour  the 
wind  seemed  to  cease  altogether,  and,  to  Jack's 
amusement,  his  father  got  out  oars  and  set  his 
crew  to  work  to  row  the  little  Dolphin.  He  was 
not  going  to  be  beaten  if  he  could  help  it.  In  half 
an  hour  more  the  Dolphin  caught  and  passed  them 
with  a  cheer. 

In  another  half  hour  she  was  well  ahead,  and 
when  the  breeze  sprung  up  it  came  off  the  land, 
and  it  was  in  vain  that  Jack  sailed  the  Wasp  as 
well  as  he  could.  The  little  Dolphin  entered  the 
harbour  a  hundred  yards  or  so  before  him,  and  as 
she  picked  up  her  anchor  her  crew,  led  by  his 
father,  cheered  again  and  again,  and  Jack  led 
cheers  in  return. 

To  Jack's  amusement  his  father  took  his  vic- 
tory quite  seriously.  He  protested  that  he  had  a 
right  to  use  oars  or  anything  else,  and  he  advised 
Jack  quite  gravely  to  put  five  or  six  big  sweeps  on 
board  the  brigantine. 

419 


Great  Days 

"In  a  calm,"  he  said,  "it  might  make  all  the 
difference  to  you.  The  wise  man  profits  by  every 
lesson." 

The  race  had  been  delightful,  and  Jack  never 
forgot  it.  .  .  . 

Being  impatient  to  get  to  sea  he  did  his  best  to 
hasten  Gosport's  return  by  sending  Riding  to 
Portsmouth  to  hurry  him  up,  and  in  the  meantime 
he  betook  himself  to  the  Grange  and  told  Carrol 
about  his  interview  with  Bonaparte  and  his  talk 
afterwards  with  de  Vinzel. 

To  his  surprise  Carrol  took  it  all  as  providen- 
tial. 

"No  such  thing  as  chance  in  the  world,"  he  de- 
clared, his  faith  excluding  doubt.  "It  is  all  or- 
dained," he  said,  "or,  as  I  prefer  to  call  it,  the  will 
of  God.  Sooner  or  later  even  the  Bonapartes 
will  see  that  selfish  ambition  is  as  silly  as  eating 
or  drinking  too  much." 

In  a  few  days  Gosport  returned  with  the  heavi- 
est guns  he  could  find,  two  sixty  pounders;  in  a 
week  he  had  fitted  them  on  the  two  brigantines. 
Day  by  day,  too,  the  men  he  had  engaged  in 
Portsmouth  came  dropping  in  so  that  the  fVasp 
had  her  full  complement  of  eighty  men  before  the 
end  of  the  week,  while  there  were  seventy  on 
board  the  Bee. 

420 


Great  Days 

One  quiet  summer  evening  Jack  gave  the  order 
to  cast  off,  and  Weetman  called  up  the  crew  to 
slip  the  anchor  and  set  sail.  Slowly  the  brigantine 
drew  out  of  the  little  cove,  followed  by  the  Bee. 
Everyone  seemed  to  feel  the  importance  of  the 
occasion,  for  Weetman  raised  his  best  chanty: 

On  Gosport  beach  I  landed,  a  place  of  noted  fame, 

I  called  for  a  bottle  of  brandy  to  treat  my  young  flash 

game. 
Her  outside  ribbons  were  all  silk,  her  spencer  a  scarlet 

red. 
We  spent  the  day  in  sweet  content,  and  at  night  we 

went  to  bed. 
Repeat:  "And  at  night  we  went  to  bed." 

After  the  first  verse  had  been  sung  Gosport  an- 
swered the  challenge  with  the  famous  man-o'-war 
song: 

When  I  was  young  and  scarce  eighteen,  I  was  a  roaring 

blade, 
And  many's  the  little  flirt  I  had  with  many  a  fair  young 

maid; 
But,  my  parents  said  it  would  not  do  for  me  to  waste 

their  store. 
So  soon  they  shipped  me  off  to  sea,  on  board  of  a  Man- 

o'-War. 

Chorus : 

Right  fol  the  rol  the  riddle;    right  fol  the  rol  the  ray; 
Right  fol  the  rol  the  riddle;    right  fol  the  rol  the  ray. 

421 


Great  Days 

It  was  to  the  strains  of  this  chorus  that  the  crew 
tailed  on  to  the  halyards  and  ran  the  sails  up  in 
double  quick  time. 

In  spite  of  himself  Jack's  heart  was  beating  as 
it  had  never  beaten  on  any  previous  cruise :  he  was 
eager  to  bring  his  theory  to  the  final  test.  Every 
day  he  exercised  his  crew  in  setting  and  taking  in 
sail,  and  smartened  them  up  by  competition  be- 
tween the  vessels  and  against  time :  every  day, 
too,  Gosport  on  the  Wasp  practised  shooting  for 
an  hour  or  two  at  a  moving  barrel  against  Newton 
on  the  Bee.  Occupied  in  this  way  the  two  vessels 
reached  the  Bay  all  too  quickly.  Jack  hoped  to 
meet  a  brig  or  corvette  on  its  way  up  from  some 
Spanish  port  perhaps  with  orders.  He  knew  that 
a  naval  fight  at  this  time  would  make  a  stir,  for 
all  England  was  tingling  with  fear  of  invasion, 
and  a  decisive  victory  at  sea  would  be  taken  as  an 
omen.  For  weary  days  and  weeks  he  patrolled 
the  Bay  from  Cherbourg  to  the  Spanish  coast 
and  back  again;  but  after  a  month  or  so  he  had 
to  return  without  capturing  anything  better  than 
a  couple  of  fishing  craft,  which  he  restored  to  the 
owners  on  finding  that  the  French  fishermen  knew 
nothing  of  the  movements  of  their  own  men-o'- 
war. 

Somewhat  crestfallen,  Jack  returned  to  Hurst- 

422 


Great  Days 

point  to  clean  the  bottoms  of  his  ships  and  give 
his  crews  a  week  or  so  on  shore  with  fresh  pro- 
visions. In  a  fortnight  they  were  in  the  Bay 
again,  but  the  weather  had  altered.  One  evening 
the  clouds  banked  up  about  the  setting  sun  and  the 
old  promise  of  a  westerly  wind  to  follow  was  soon 
fulfilled;    about  four  bells  it  began  to  blow  hard. 

Jack  made  the  fFasp  snug  and  kept  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  Bee.  By  morning  the 
strong  breeze  had  stiffened  to  a  gale:  evidently 
they  were  in  for  the  first  of  the  equinoctials.  Just 
as  eight  bells  went,  the  mast-head  watch  hailed — 
"a  full  rigged  ship  on  the  lee  bow."  In  an  hour 
they  saw  she  was  a  French  frigate  and  a  large 
one.  Jack  could  not  make  up  his  mind  to  get  out 
of  her  way,  though  even  Gosport  warned  him  that 
they  would  be  at  a  disadvantage  with  their  one  big 
gun  against  the  frigate's  broadside  with  such  a 
sea  running. 

"Our  gun-carriage.  Sir,"  he  said,  "is  not  so 
steady  as  theirs,  and  with  only  one  gun  at  long 
bowls  we  may  miss  a  good  many  times." 

But  Jack  simply  could  not  run  away  and  leave 
the  chance  untried.  If  the  odds  in  his  favour 
were  as  great  as  he  believed,  he  must  win  sooner 
or  later. 

In  another  hour  they  were  within  two  or  three 

423 


Great  Days 

miles  of  the  frigate  and  could  see  her  plainly. 
Suddenly  a  suspicion  crossed  Jack's  mind: 

"She  looks  very  much  like  the  frigate  that  took 
us,"  he  said,  handing  the  glasses  to  Gosport. 
"What  do  you  think?" 

In  a  moment  Gosport  put  the  glass  down. 

"It  is  the  Inflexible,"  he  said,  "forty  guns — all 
thirty-two  pounders." 

"We  must  have  a  slap  at  her,"  cried  Jack,  "tit 
for  tat  is  good  for  everyone." 

Meanwhile  the  frigate  came  steadily  on  under 
all  her  lower  canvas,  paying  no  attention  whatever 
to  the  two  small  craft  that  kept  drawing  towards 
her  with  the  weather  gauge.  Suddenly  Jack  ran 
up  the  English  colours  and  Gosport  fired  the  big 
gun.  In  a  moment  the  frigate  had  triced  up  her 
ports  and  replied  with  a  broadside  that  fell  short: 
the  triangular  duel  had  begun. 

All  through  the  day  they  pounded  the  frigate 
without  intermission.  But  the  French  Captain  was 
a  brave  fellow,  and  while  the  fight  was  going  on 
he  had  his  carpenters  up  repairing  damages.  At 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Jack  told  Gos- 
port to  aim  at  the  rigging. 

At  about  six  o'clock  Newton  carried  away  the 
frigate's  main  royal  mast,  and  while  the  big  ship 
was  disabled  Jack  ran  as  near  her  stern  as  he 

424 


Great  Days 

dared  and  fired  again,  raking  her.  As  luck  would 
have  it  this  shot  brought  down  her  foremast.  The 
Frenchman  at  once  fell  away  and  let  him  have  a 
broadside,  but  the  shots  did  little  damage. 

All  the  evening  the  French  crew  were  at  work 
getting  sail  on  a  jury  foremast  that  they  had 
rigged  up;  and  as  soon  as  night  fell  the  frigate 
turned  tail  and  began  to  run  before  the  wind  for 
the  French  coast. 

About  midnight  the  word  came  aft  that  the 
Frenchman  was  hove  to,  no  doubt  with  the  hope 
of  getting  the  two  ships  close  enough  to  give  them 
each  a  broadside;  but  Jack  went  about  in  the 
JVasp  at  once  and  signalled  to  the  Bee,  and  both 
began  pumping  in  the  heavy  shots  again,  and  the 
Frenchman  soon  found  that  his  best  course  was  to 
run  for  it. 

With  the  first  grey  streak  of  dawn  Jack  began 
the  cannonading  again,  and  now  almost  alternate- 
ly first  the  JVasp  and  then  the  Bee  pummelled  the 
French  frigate.  By  eight  bells  that  day  she  was 
a  sorry  sight.  An  hour  later  the  tricolour  came 
slowly  fluttering  down  from  her  peak. 

"Out  with  the  gig,"  Jack  cried,  "let's  save  our 
prize. 

"Don't  risk  it,  sir,"  cried  Gosport.  "Let  Rid- 
ing board  him  and  we'll  hang  off." 

425 


Great  Days 


i«T». 


Tm  going  aboard,"  said  Jack,  "you  and  Rid- 
ing will  keep  us  in  sight." 

He  saw  that  the  gale  had  nearly  blown  itself 
out.  The  frigate  was  in  a  pitiable  condition:  of 
a  crew  of  over  three  hundred  men  she  had  lost 
a  hundred  and  twenty  killed  and  wounded.  The 
big  shots  had  done  tremendous  damage.  All  the 
boats  were  knocked  to  pieces,  ten  of  the  forty  can- 
non dismounted,  the  lower  deck  a  shambles. 

The  captain  he  found  was  an  old  seadog  of  fifty 
years  of  age  called  Chauchard.  Needless  to  say 
Jack  treated  him  with  more  than  courtesy,  show- 
ing, indeed,  to  him  and  to  the  rest  of  the  officers 
every  possible  consideration.  He  regretted  only 
that  he  had  not  got  a  single  doctor  on  board  either 
of  his  vessels.  But  the  French  ship  had  a  good 
surgeon  and  two  assistants,  and  the  wounded  were 
soon  made  as  comfortable  as  possible. 

By  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  frigate  was 
ready  to  sail  again,  and  the  wind  had  fallen:  Jack 
transferred  fifty  seamen  to  the  French  ship  and, 
by  promising  a  hundred  of  the  French  crew  to 
give  them  their  liberty  if  they  would  give  him 
their  parole  to  work  and  not  attempt  to  escape, 
he  got  the  frigate  running  free  towards  the  Eng- 
lish coast  with  the  two  smaller  vessels  on  her 
weather  quarter. 

426 


Great  Days 

Jack  had  hardly  got  on  board  the  Wasp  again 
when  it  came  to  him  that  he  hadn't  slept  for  forty- 
eight  hours,  and  he  went  down  to  his  cabin  and 
never  awoke  till  the  sun  was  high.  As  he  dressed 
himself  he  could  not  help  looking  through  the 
porthole  to  see  the  frigate — the  outward  and  vis- 
ible sign  of  his  triumph. 

As  soon  as  he  had  breakfasted  he  got  himself 
put  on  board  and  had  a  long  talk  with  Captain 
Chauchard.  He  found  him  an  excellent  sailor  and 
a  man  with  a  fund  of  common  sense.  He  talked 
quite  freely  and  Jack  learned  a  good  deal  from 
him.  He  declared  that  the  Revolution  which  had 
made  the  French  army  had  destroyed  the  French 
navy. 

"How  did  it  do  that?"  asked  Jack  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"Seamanship  is  a  thing,"  said  Chauchard,  "that 
cannot  be  learnt  in  a  month  or  a  year.  It's  about 
the  most  difficult  trade  on  earth.  It  takes  an  ap- 
prenticeship in  childhood  and  eight  or  ten  years 
of  practice.  Well  we  used  to  have  that;  the  offi- 
cers on  board  our  vessels  were  nearly  all  nobles, 
that  was  why  I  was  only  a  subordinate,"  he  said, 
simply.  "In  the  Revolution  all  the  officers  were 
guillotined  as  aristocrats;  that  would  not  have 
hurt  us  perhaps  if  the  authorities  had  picked  out 

427 


Great  Days 

the  best  common  sailors  and  made  them  officers, 
but  instead  of  that  they  sent  middle  class  people 
on  board,  captains  who  had  never  been  to  sea, 
lieutenants  who  didn't  know  the  mizzen  mast  from 
the  jib-boom.  They  had  to  make  me  a  captain," 
he  added,  "because  I  was  the  only  officer  on  board 
who  did  not  get  seasick.  No  wonder  your  Nelson 
beat  us.  If  Bonaparte  had  been  a  seaman  in- 
stead of  an  artillery  officer  the  result  would  have 
been  different.  Look  at  this  Inflexible,''^  he  said; 
*'my  first  lieutenant  is  the  son  of  an  advocate  of 
Bordeaux.  When  he  gives  orders  he  makes  all 
the  sailors  laugh." 

"I  am  rather  glad  of  it,"  said  Jack,  courteously, 
"for  if  they  had  all  been  as  good  as  you  I  should 
probably  never  have  won." 

*'0h,  no,"  said  Chauchard,  "you  have  taught  us 
all  a  lesson,  and  if  I  ever  get  back  to  France  I  shall 
try  to  make  the  French  authorities  realise  that  a 
couple  of  Wasps  are  more  than  a  match  for  a 
forty-gun  frigate." 

How  was  it.  Jack  asked  himself  in  wonder,  how 
was  it  that  Bonaparte,  with  his  quick  vision,  had 
never  gone  on  board  his  ships  himself  and  found 
out  the  reason  of  the  Indisputable  superiority  of 
the  English?  The  more  he  thought  of  it  the  more 
he  sav/  that  Fox  was  right.    There  was  no  depth 

428 


Great  Days 

of  sympathy  and  therefore  no  width  of  vision  in 
Bonaparte;  he  was  a  clear,  decisive  man,  as  Fox 
had  said,  who  could  strike  sharply  but  hardly 
more. 

An  hour  later  Riding  came  on  board. 

"Whoever  would  have  believed  it?"  he  cried, 
when  he  looked  at  the  broad  deck  of  the  frigate. 
"What  will  they  say  of  us  in  England?"  was  his 
next  remark. 

A  week  later  they  were  off  Hurstpoint  without 
having  sighted  a  ship. 

As  soon  as  they  had  the  first  glimpse  of  land, 
Jack  ordered  the  other  two  vessels  to  He  to  and 
ran  into  Hurstpoint  to  bring  out  the  little  Dol- 
phin. He  dropped  Weetman  in  a  boat  to  send 
him  out  the  cutter  and  gave  him  a  letter  for  his 
father,  telling  him  to  come  to  Portsmouth  to  meet 
him. 

Next  day  they  were  in  the  Solent,  but  as  soon 
as  they  came  under  the  lee  of  the  Isle  of  Wight 
Jack  stopped  the  vessel  and  put  a  hundred  of  the 
French  sailors,  to  whom  he  had  promised  liberty, 
on  board  the  little  Dolphin,  and  told  Knight,  her 
skipper,  to  drop  them  in  Boulogne.  Everyone  of 
the  Frenchmen,  Jack  thought,  had  earned  his 
freedom.  But  he  was  soon  to  discover  that  the 
English  authorities  didn't  agree  with  him. 

429 


Great  Days 

The  arrival  of  the  ships  in  Portsmouth  caused 
a  certain  stir.  About  four  o'clock  Jack  went  on 
shore  to  report  himself.  To  his  astonishment  he 
was  told  that  the  admiral  could  not  see  him  then, 
but  would  see  him  next  morning  if  he  would  come 
at  about  eight.  Jack  had  a  very  good  mind  to 
take  his  prize  up  the  Thames  and  not  call  upon 
the  admiral  at  all.  It  would  probably  have  been 
better  for  his  future  prospects  in  the  navy  if  he 
had  followed  this  first  impulse. 

When  he  called  next  morning  he  found  himself 
treated  rather  like  an  upstart  than  a  victor.  The 
admiral  took  it  for  granted  that  the  victory  was  a 
mere  piece  of  luck.  He  listened  half  contemptu- 
ously to  Jack's  answers  to  his  questions,  and  then 
put  the  whole  success  down  to  the  fact  that  the 
foremast  of  the  French  frigate  had  been  shot 
away. 

"The  lucky  shot,"  he  kept  repeating,  "the  lucky 
shot — the  hazard  of  war,"  till  Jack  wondered  how 
anything  so  brainless  could  ever  have  come  to  com- 
mand. He  never  even  asked  about  the  size  of 
Jack's  cannon,  and  when  Jack  told  him  his  guns 
were  heavier  than  the  frigate's  he  pursed  out  his 
lips  as  if  that  mattered  nothing  or  as  if  Jack  were 
bragging.     In  fact,  Jack  had  a  good  lesson  in 

430 


Great  Days 

what  professional  pride  could  do  to  obscure  com- 
mon sense. 

With  unfeigned  delight  the  admiral  pounced 
upon  Jack's  admission  that  he  had  given  a  hun- 
dred French  sailors  their  liberty. 

"What!"  he  cried,  "no  king's  officer  would  take 
upon  himself  such  an  unwarrantable  liberty.  I'll 
have  to  report  it  to  the  Admiralty.  Never  heard 
of  such  a  thing  in  my  life.  You'll  be  lucky  if  you 
get  off  without  seeing  the  inside  of  a  prison. 
That's  what  comes  of  giving  commissions  to  mer- 
chant seamen." 

Jack  stared  at  him,  striving  to  keep  calm. 

"How  was  I  to  bring  nearly  three  hundred  men 
back  as  prisoners  when  I  could  not  put  even  a 
hundred  to  guard  them?" 

"Disarm  'em  and  clap  'em  under  hatches,"  the 
admiral  shouted. 

"But  who  would  have  navigated  the  frigate?" 
asked  Jack.    "It  was  still  blowing  hard." 

"That's  your  business,"  said  the  admiral. 
"You  might  have  scuttled  her  if  you  could  not 
bring  her  into  port." 

"I  am  allowed  then  to  drown  my  prisoners," 
said  Jack,  "but  not  to  set  them  free?" 

"That's    enough,"    said    the    admiral.      "You 

431 


Great  Days 

don't  know  your  duty,  Sir.  How  you  ever  got  a 
commission  I'll  be  hung  if  I  can  imagine." 

But  fortunately  the  Port  Admiral  only  repre- 
sented the  ordinary  professional  opinion.  The 
captain  of  one  of  the  king's  ships  in  the  harbour 
came  on  board  the  Wasp  in  the  afternoon  and 
congratulated  Jack  in  the  handsomest  manner, 
declared  he  had  never  believed  such  a  victory 
possible,  asked  him  to  dinner  and  when  Jack  told 
him  what  the  Port  Admiral  had  said,  he  burst  out 
laughing  and  told  him  not  to  mind;  that  the  old 
fellow  was  a  better  judge  of  port  wine  and  rum 
than  seamanship. 

"He  is  the  nephew,"  he  said,  "of  a  former 
Lord  of  the  Admiralty  and  knows  a  good  deal 
about  good  living  and  very  little  about  the  sea." 

Jack  soon  received  further  proof  that  his 
triumph  was  not  to  pass  unappreciated.  Next 
day  he  received  a  letter  from  Fox  enclosing  a 
Captain's  commission. 

The  Admiralty  send  you  this:  it's  the  least 
they  could  do;  you  have  deserved  well  of  your 
country.     I  am  delited. 

C.  J.  Fox. 

Jack  noticed  that  the  great  man  had  spelt 
"delited." 

432 


Great  Days 

As  soon  as  he  had  time  to  think  he  racked  his 
brain  to  understand  why  his  father  had  not  come 
to  Portsmouth  to  meet  him. 

The  next  day  he  got  the  admiral's  permission 
to  return  to  Hurstpoint  in  the  Wasp. 


433 


CHAPTER  VII 

HE  ran  into  Hurstpoint  harbour  about  nine 
o'clock  the  next  night.  In  spite  of  the 
natural  pride  in  his  own  achievement,  for  some 
reason  or  other  Jack  felt  terribly  depressed.  Why 
hadn't  his  father  met  him  at  Portsmouth?  He 
knew  that  the  old  man  would  delight  in  selling  the 
frigate.  Before  they  even  reached  the  harbour 
the  mystery  was  solved.  Weetman  came  off  in 
the  Mary's  boat  and  told  him  that  his  father  was 
very  ill,  not  expected  to  live. 

Jack  left  his  vessel  to  Gosport,  threw  himself 
into  the  gig  and  hurried  to  the  Robin  Hood.  He 
met  Nancy  in  the  very  door,  who  told  him  be- 
tween her  sobs  that  his  father  was  unconscious, 
very  weak,  and  Emily  was  in  the  parlour.  He 
went  in  to  see  his  sister  at  once.  She  chilled  him 
to  the  heart  by  assuming  that  the  end  was  at  hand. 

"I'm  glad  you're  in  time,"  she  said. 

Jack  kissed  her  and  went  upstairs  at  once. 
Although  he  entered  quietly  the  old  man  heard, 
and  one  might  have  thought  he  had  been  waiting 

434 


Great  Days 

for  his  son,  for  a  faint  smile  flickered  over  his 
tanned  face  and  he  opened  his  eyes  and  held  out 
his  hand  as  Jack  hurried  to  the  bedside. 

"How  are  you,  dad;  how  do  you  feel?" 

"I  don't  feel  much,"  said  the  old  man  in  a  slow, 
faint  voice,  "except  that  I'm  tired.  What  have 
you  done,  lad?  Did  they  tell  me  you'd  taken  a 
frigate — a  forty-gun  ship?" 

Jack  nodded. 

"Well  done,"  cried  the  old  man. 

"They've  made  me  a  captain  in  the  navy," 
said  Jack. 

"H'm,"  grumbled  the  old  man,  "Bonaparte 
would  have  made  you  an  admiral.  But  you've 
done  well,  very  well,  and  now  you'll  have  The 
Court.  I  wish  I  could  live  to  see  you  there.  .  .  . 
But  I've  had  a  good  time  of  it.  Jack,  and  now  I'm 
going.  I  want  to  sleep,"  he  said,  "sleep  all  the 
time.   .  .   . 

"Love's  all  right  for  youth,  but  it  plays  an  old 
man  out.  Nancy's  a  good  piece;  she's  been  very 
kind  to  me,  Jack,  and  I  know  you'll  be  kind  to 
her."  .  .  . 

For  a  while  he  lay  still  with  closed  eyes  till 
Jack,  looking  down  on  him  and  seeing  him  so 
grey  and  the  nose  so  thin  and  waxen-white,  feared 

435 


Great  Days 

that  he  had  passed.  But  as  he  leaned  to  listen  If 
he  breathed,  the  old  man  woke  again. 

"I'm  dying,"  he  whispered.  "I  feel  It,  but  I 
wouldn't  have  that  boy  Carrol  to  pray  at  me. 
He's  a  sqult;  a  jellyfish,  pretty  to  look  at  but  no 
backbone.  I  offended  your  sister  by  teUing  her 
I  didn't  want  him.  .  .  . 

"I've  come  to  the  end,"  he  went  on  again, 
after  a  pause  to  get  strength.  "I  don't  fear  any- 
thing and  I  don't  hope  much.  This  life  Is  all  we 
get  and  I  have  had  a  very  good  time  on  the  whole. 
I  wouldn't  mind  having  It  all  over  again,  you 
know,"  he  added  with  a  flash  of  the  old  spirit, 
"but  the  anchor's  running  out."  .  .  .  Each  sen- 
tence seemed  to  exhaust  him  more. 

"WIggln's  got  the  nest-egg.  Jack,"  he  whis- 
pered, "for  your  little  girl,"  then  he  chuckled: 

^'Crosby "    but    he    could    hardly    continue: 

"Crosby'll  have  a  warm  berth."  .  .  .  He  winked 
maliciously.  Jack's  breath  was  catching  In  his 
throat. 

A  little  while  later  he  opened  his  eyes  again 
and  Jack  saw  distress  in  the  face,  dread  in  the 
staring  eyes. 

"I'm  going,"  the  old  man  gasped,  and  as  Jack 
slipped  his  hand  under  his  shoulders  and  lifted 
him  up  on  the  pillow: 

436 


Great  Days 

"Damn  it,"  he  groaned  In  a  spasm  of  pain,  and 
his  head  fell  back  with  the  mouth  open. 

In  a  passion  of  tenderness  Jack  closed  the  eyes 
and  mouth  and  kissed  the  sharp  features.  .  .  . 

Later  Nancy  came  into  the  room  sobbing 
heavily  and  then  Emily  also,  and  they  began 
putting  the  place  to  rights. 

Jack  made  his  way  out  into  the  night  with  an 
awful  sense  of  loneliness  and  solitude  upon  him. 
At  first  in  his  distress  he  thought  of  going  to  see 
Carrol,  but  he  couldn't,  he  simply  couldn't  face 
Carrol's  perfect  complacent  trust.  He  could  have 
done  with  Riding  perhaps,  but  he  preferred  to  be 
alone.  .  .  . 

The  next  days  passed  in  vague  unreal  happen- 
ings: then  the  funeral  and  he  saw  his  father 
buried  by  his  mother  in  the  little  churchyard  on 
the  southern  slope  that  caught  the  sun. 

They  all  met  together  in  the  parlour  and  heard 
the  lawyer  read  the  will.  As  soon  as  it  was  over 
Nancy  came  to  Jack  and  assured  him  that  though 
the  Inn  had  been  left  to  her,  he  would  always  be 
welcome  there  as  master,  and  if  he  would  keep  his 
old  room  she'd  be  very  glad. 

Jack  looked  at  her;  perhaps  some  of  it  was 
true. 

An  hour  later  he  took  his  sister  back  to  The 

437  * 


Great  Days 

Grange.  But  when  Carrol  tried  to  keep  him  to 
dinner  and  engage  him  in  talk,  Jack  shrank  from 
him;  every  touch  hurt,  he  was  better  alone. 

He  found  it  almost  impossible  to  live.  His 
father  gone;  life  was  empty  to  him.  The  old  man 
had  been  another  self;  his  praise  a  reward;  his 
energy,  courage  and  resource  a  perpetual  en- 
couragement; his  caution,  his  suspiciousness, 
his  religious  bargainings,  his  lewdness  even — 
everything  In  him  was  delightful  to  Jack;  his 
father  had  been  a  great  man,  he  felt;  if  his  field 
in  life  had  been  higher;  he  would  have  done  great 
things.  The  indomitable  energy  in  him,  the 
splendid  courage  were  irresistible.  Jack  suffered 
beyond  words;  he  had  loved  his  father;  the  be- 
reavement was  dreadful.  .  .  . 

He  lived  on  board  the  brigantine,  hid  himself 
away  from  those  who  had  any  right  to  come  near 
him ;  he  avoided  any  intrusion  on  his  lonely  mis- 
ery. It  seemed  as  if  something  in  him  were 
broken;  as  if  it  were  impossible  for  him  to  take 
up  again  the  burden  of  life.  He  didn't  even  care 
to  shave  or  to  attend  to  his  dress.  He  wandered 
about  the  deck  like  a  ghost,  and  would  sit  for 
hours  in  the  cabin  buried  in  blank  apathy. 

One  day  Riding  came  into  the  cabin  to  see  him 
and  took  In  the  situation  at  a  glance. 

438 


Great  Days 

"I've  come  to  see  you,"  he  said  briskly,  "and 
to  annoy  you  I'm  afraid.  The  Admiralty  has 
censured  you  for  setting  free  the  French  sailors." 

Jack  looked  at  him ;  he  didn't  even  know  what 
he  was  talking  about,  much  less  care  for  any 
censure. 

"And  they  have  made  an  offer  of  thirty  thou- 
sand pounds  for  the  French  frigate?" 

To  get  rid  of  him  Jack  said:  "All  right,  let 
them  have  it."     What  did  he  care? 

"I  refused  it,"  Riding  went  on,  "in  your  name, 
said  you  would  fit  her  out  again  for  sea  and 
read  your  new  commission  on  board." 

Jack  shook  his  head.  In  vain  Riding  pleaded 
with  him.  He  would  not  hear  of  it,  but  grew 
impatient  and  shut  himself  up  again  in  his  cabin. 

That  night  Riding  went  up  to  The  Grange  and 
told  Emily  what  he  had  seen. 

"If  he  Isn't  roused  In  some  way  or  other,"  he 
said,  "he'll  get  worse  and  worse.  Gosport  tells 
me  he  doesn't  eat;  he's  Incredibly  haggard  and 
thin.  You  see,"  he  went  on,  "he's  very  affec- 
tionate; he  doesn't  seem  to  want  to  live.  What 
can  be  done?" 

His  earnestness,  his  conviction  alarmed  Emily 
and  she  called  her  husband  In  and  the  three  dis- 
cussed it. 

439 


Great  Days 

Suddenly  it  came  to  Emily  that  the  one  person 
who  might  help  them  was  Margaret  Barron. 
She  wrote  to  her  at  length  that  same  evening  and 
told  her  of  Jack's  state. 

As  soon  as  she  got  the  letter  Margaret  came 
down  to  The  Court  and  saw  Emily,  who  pro- 
posed that  Riding  should  inveigle  Jack  on  shore 
by  telling  him  that  his  signature  was  absolutely 
needed.  But  Margaret  would  not  hear  of  the 
trick;  she  would  go  on  board  at  once  and  see  Jack. 

As  she  entered  the  cabin  Jack  looked  at  her 
and  then  looked  down  again. 

After  a  pause  she  came  near  him: 

"Won't  you  speak  to  me?"  she  asked. 

"What's  the  good?"  he  said,  "I'm  finished." 

But  as  he  spoke  thoughts  began  to  stir  in  him 
again  and  he  woke  to  misery.  In  the  same  way 
a  man  whose  hand  has  been  frostbitten  feels 
nothing  in  it  till  he  attempts  to  move  it  or  bring 
it  to  life  again  and  then  as  the  blood  begins  to 
stir  in  the  veins  the  pain  of  renewed  life  becomes 
intolerable.  So  all  the  pain  of  livmg,  all  the  bit- 
terness of  death  and  love  irreparable  swept  over 
Jack  and  found  words: 

"What's  the  good  of  It  all?"  he  repeated. 
"We  struggle  and  struggle  and  accomphsh  noth- 
ing:  it's   like   swimming   against   a   current:   we 

440 


Great  Days 

think  we're  forging  ahead  and  making  progress; 
in  reality  our  utmost  efforts  don't  advance  us  an 
inch. 

"The  fools  get  honour  and  place,  the  selfish 
win  power  they  can  only  misuse;  our  loves  and 
affections  all  recoil  on  us  in  loss  and  misery; 
'twould  be  better  not  to  live.  .  .  . 

"I've  lost  heart  and  hope:  and  can  only  suf- 
fer." 

Margaret  looked  at  him. 

"You  only  think  of  yourself  then,"  she  began; 
but  broke  off  quickly;  "that  doesn't  matter.  The 
strong  and  brave,  Jack,  find  hope  in  their  own 
hearts  to  give  to  others,  the  weak  whine  and  com- 
plain. I  always  thought  you  were  among  the 
strong.  .  .  ." 

The  heat  came  into  Jack's  cheeks,  the  remedy 
was  bitter  but  it  worked;  he  felt  that  his  self- 
abandonment  was  criminally  weak:  he  was  not 
really  defeated  and  desperate;  but  heart-sick  and 
lonely.     He  got  up  slowly  and  went  over  to  her : 

"It  was  good  of  you  to  come,"  he  said  and 
took  her  hands,  and  at  the  touch  of  them,  the 
band  about  his  heart  was  loosened  and  tears 
burned  in  his  eyes : 

"It's  good  to  see  you,"  he  repeated,  and  as  he 
kissed  her  hands  he   became   conscious   that  he 

441 


Great  Days 

hadn't  shaved  for  weeks,  and  was  In  rough  sea 
togs;  but  Margaret  seemed  to  take  no  notice  of 
his  appearance. 

"Why  have  you  hidden  yourself  away?"  she 
cried.  "All  London's  talking  of  you ;  just  to  know 
you  is  an  honour;  we're  all  proud  of  you!" 

He  found  little  to  say.  He  was  embarrassed, 
ashamed  of  himself,  but  the  cloud  had  lifted.  He 
was  a  man  again.  He  begged  her  to  meet  him 
the  next  day  and  when  she  consented  he  took  her 
on  deck  and  asked  Riding  to  see  her  to  The 
Grange. 

Within  an  hour  he  had  shaved  himself  and 
dressed  carefully  and  had  Gosport  and  Riding 
to  dinner  in  the  cabin  of  the  brigantine;  he  heard 
all  Riding's  news,  approved  of  everything — even 
of  the  plan  to  fit  out  the  frigate  for  a  cruise  under 
the  Union  Jack. 

Resolutely  now  he  turned  away  from  the 
melancholy  brooding;  hope  had  come  back  to  him, 
hope  and  desire.  He  slept  well,  dressed  care- 
fully, and  went  up  in  a  hurry  to  The  Grange. 

The  autumn  day  had  a  brisk  exhilaration  in  it. 
Jack  drew  in  long  breaths  of  the  cold  sweet  air; 
the  tang  of  the  salt  sea-breeze  did  him  good, 
lifted  his  spirits. 

When    Margaret    came    in,    his    whole    being 

442 


Great  Days 

thrilled  to  the  meeting.  He  took  in  now  with 
delight  that  she  was  more  beautiful  than  ever,  his 
deep-breasted  love.  Immediately  after  dinner  he 
insisted  on  taking  her  home  to  The  Court. 

Their  road  led  past  the  spot  where  he  had 
stopped  her  that  wet  night  long  ago. 

"Can  you  forgive  me?"  he  said,  pausing  at  the 
same  spot. 

She  looked  at  him  with  inscrutable  eyes,  smiling. 

"I  kissed  you  again  and  again  against  your 
will,"  he  said:  "I  was  half  mad.  Have  you  for- 
given me?" 

She  looked  at  him.  "Are  you  sure?"  she 
asked. 

He  didn't  catch  her  meaning.  "What?"  he 
said. 

"You  silly  man,"  she  said,  and  when  his  look 
questioned  her  she  added: 

"I  have  nothing  to  forgive.  Jack." 

Slowly  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her 
on  the  lips,  kissed  her  on  the  eyes  and  hair,  putting 
her  arms  round  his  neck,  taking  possession  of  her, 
wholly 

A  little  later  she  drew  herself  from  his  em- 
brace all  flushed. 

"You  love  me?"  he  asked. 

"Surely,"  she  replied,  her  eyes  meeting  his. 

443 


Great  Days 

They  walked  on  a  little  way  in  silence,  then  he 
began  regretfully: 

"What  a  pity  it  is  that  with  us  men  the  sense 
so  often  runs  away  with  the  spirit,  and  we  mistake 
the  heat  of  blood  for  love.  Women  like  you  are 
so  much  truer  than  we  are,"  he  added,  "you  have 
nothing  to  regret." 

"Don't  be  too  sure,"  she  said.  "I  wonder  if  I 
confessed  to  you,  what  you  would  think?" 

"Come,"  he  said,  drawing  her  to  him  with  a 
divine  tender  joy  at  the  thought  of  having  some- 
thing to  forgive.  "What  have  you  done,  sweet- 
heart?" 

"When  you  took  me  and  kissed  me  that  night," 
she  said,  "so  roughly,  I  was  glad  of  it;  my  heart 
leaped  in  me  for  joy.  Then  I  thought  you  must 
have  felt  my  quick  delight,  and  I  had  no  right 
to  feel,  no  right  to  let  myself  go;  I  was  a  little 
frightened  of  myself.  But  underneath  I  was  all 
jubilant,  glad.  .  .  . 

"When  you  said  to  me  that  I'd  forgive  you 
before  you'd  forgive  yourself,  I  could  have 
laughed  aloud. 

"It  seemed  so  funny  to  hear  you  talk  of  for- 
giveness; as  if  I  had  anything  to  forgive.  But 
it  showed  you  hadn't  noticed  my  joy  and  I  was 
proud  of  myself  again. 

444 


Great  Days 

"I  went  quickly  away  because  I  had  to,  for  you 
won  my  very  heart  by  kneeling  to  me,  and  if  I  had 
stayed  a  moment  longer  I'd  have  told  you  I  cared 
for  nothing  in  the  world  but  you,  nothing,  noth- 
ing; not  for  father  or  mother  or  position  or 
anything  in  the  wide  world,  but  only  you,  just 
you,"  and  she  kissed  him  with  hot  lips. 

A  moment  later  she  said,  knitting  her  brows: 

"Curious:  my  love  makes  me  humble;  I  wish 
I  were  lovely  for  your  sake." 

"Hush,  hush,"  he  said,  taking  her  head  in  his 
hands  and  kissing  her  on  the  lips  again.  "Hush, 
dear!  You  make  me  ashamed.  To  win  you  Is 
more  than  I  dared  to  hope." 

She  put  her  arms  round  him  and  kissed  him 
again  passionately.  "I'm  glad,"  she  said,  "I  want 
nothing  better  than  life  with  you." 


THE  END 


44.5 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


iViAR  1  b  ^^ 


*  w  "^ ' 


1.'^   c'sJ 


m^ 


zz^' 


JUN  1 2  1956 

\?n  1  6 1959 


mSn  loan 


P.M. 


SEP  3    12 


3I4I5I6 


.^ 


